by B. B. Hamel
“They’ll step up,” I said. “Just give them a chance.”
He clenched his jaw then stood up straight. “We have a meeting to prepare for,” he said, walked around the car, and got in.
I slipped into the passenger side, my guts a mess of anxiety.
21
Mona
Vince spent the rest of that day and most of the night on the phone setting up the details of the meeting. I lounged on the couch, alternating between extreme worry and extreme boredom. I watched shadows stretch across the hardwood floor and stared at his television as it played reruns of Jeopardy on Netflix.
He was quiet when he went to bed that night. I wasn’t sure if I should sleep with him, but he took me by the hand and led me up to his room. He sat me down on the edge of the bed and looked at me like a disappointed parent.
“You shouldn’t have spoken up at the meeting today,” he said.
I leaned back on my hands and raised both eyebrows, unable to hide my surprise. “Really?” I asked.
“But I’m glad you did.” He relaxed his posture a little bit. “I only want to make sure you’re safe. Drawing attention to yourself like that… it’s not a good idea in front of that many soldiers.”
“I hear you,” I said. “But nobody was talking about it.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pacing with a little nervous energy. “The trap thing ran through my mind, too,” he said. “Makes no sense for the Jalisco to want to meet. But if they’re set on trying to avoid war, I can’t force them into it without some ill will.”
“So, what, you’re just going out there to sacrifice yourself?”
He gave me a tight little smile and stopped walking. “Pretty much,” he said. “Show them just how sincere the Jalisco really are.”
“Are you sure you should do this?”
“I have to,” he said. “I don’t think they’ll try anything at the meeting itself. But I’m going to be on my guard after.”
“Where are we having it?”
He snorted and shook his head hard. “Absolutely no way are you coming with me.”
“Come on,” I said. “We came this far together.”
“This isn’t a joke, Mona. The Jalisco will kill you as easily as they’ll kill a fly.”
I sat up straight and leaned toward him, eyes sharp. “You won’t let them do that, will you?”
“Of course not,” he said. “But—”
“Then let me come,” I said. “You can protect me.”
He dropped his hands and laughed like he could barely believe what I’d just said.
“You’re a sly one,” he said. “Trying to go after my pride.”
I grinned a little and spread my hands. “Whatever works.”
“If this is about your little article, I’ll tell you what they say.”
“It’s about seeing this through,” I said.
He met my gaze for a beat and I sat there, a butterfly spread and pinned.
“All right,” he said. “You can come. But no talking. No moving. Nothing out of line, understand?”
“Understand,” I said, relaxing just a touch. “Now, do you want to come join me in bed, or are you too busy?”
He shook his head and began to unbutton his shirt as he walked toward me.
“Little Mona, you’re going to be the death of me,” he said. “And I think I like it.”
“Good,” I said as he leaned down and kissed me.
The meeting was set for early the next morning, right at nine sharp. He got up at six, showered, made coffee. I slept in until eight, got up, showered, dressed, and met him by the front door.
He wore a tailored black suit and I caught sight of a gun tucked into a holster under his arm. I had on a pair of dark jeans and a navy-blue top, cut low, my hair down around my shoulders. He gave me an approving look and gripped my ass as I tried to slip past.
“Easy there,” I said. “We have to get going.”
“We have a little time,” he said.
I laughed, got away from him, and headed into the kitchen. I filled a to-go mug with coffee, and he just gave me a little look as I walked to the front door and opened it.
“Come on, big boy,” I said. “Let’s be early for once.”
“Yes, miss,” he said. “I like this version of you. All the commands and shit.”
I laughed a little, feeling heady and stupid, as I walked down his stoop. I don’t know where this confidence came from or what the hell I thought I was doing, but the thought of danger ahead made me giddy with anticipation.
Maybe I was starting to like it, this life, this excitement.
We got into his SUV and drove through the city. I didn’t know where the meeting was being held, but I knew it didn’t matter. He drove out east and north, heading toward the Delaware River. We drove along the waterfront and parked in a tight space just outside of the Race Street Pier. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, looking around.
There were cars scattered all over, pressed up against the curb and packed into a small lot nearby. Young couples walked around in cut-off jean shorts and button-down shirts. Guys with their wives and kids, older men and women laughing as they bought ice cream from a nearby truck.
“Here we are,” he said.
“Touristy,” I said.
“But nice.” He squinted a bit and shook his head. “And crowded.”
“That’s good, right?”
“I hope so.” He opened his door. “Come on, let’s go check it out.”
The Race Street Pier used to be an abandoned strip of concrete that jutted out over the Delaware. About six years ago, it went through some serious renovation, and the city turned it into one of the nicer parks around. There was a long strip of grass down the center, with a stepped platform on the one side that stretched the length of the pier. Tall, leafy trees were planted along the center of the platform and benches sat in the shade.
The pier was relatively crowded. People sat on blankets in the grass or lounged on the steps of the beige stone platform. Couples sat on the benches, and a busker stood in the top right corner near the water, playing a guitar and singing to a small crowd of bored-looking people in brightly colored summer clothes.
It was idyllic, almost perfect, and if we weren’t there to meet with a bunch of men that had tried to kill us just a couple days earlier, I might have been looking forward to spending some time there.
“Who are we looking for?” I asked as we moved through the crowd. He led me toward the stone platform, up a set of tiered steps, and into the shade of the trees overlooking the harbor.
“His name is Santos,” Vince said. “He heads the Jalisco in this city.”
“They sent the big boss,” I said.
He laughed, put an arm around my shoulders. “Of course they did. Sending anyone else would guarantee a war.”
“So what’s the plan?”
He shook his head as we passed a group of teenagers crowded around a single phone. They all laughed and I watched them for a second, wondering if I was envious of their laughter or their youth.
But no, I wasn’t envious of either. They lived in a bubble just outside of the real world, but today I was plunging right into that ocean of reality.
“No plan,” he said. “I’ll hear what they have to say.”
“Really?” I asked, trying hard not to let him hear the skeptical note in my voice.
“Really,” he said. “And if they’re lucky, I won’t kill them.”
I nodded my head at the people all around us. “I think that’ll be a little hard, don’t you?”
“Nah,” he said. “Nobody would rat on me. All these people are plants.”
“Wait— really?”
“No,” he said and laughed a little. “Of course not.”
“Shit,” I said.
“Come on, Mona. You don’t really think the mob has that much power, do you?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know how any of this work
s.”
“We’re strong,” he said, tugging me closer. “But we’re not that strong. That’s some fucking next-level government shit. We can’t fill a park with our own people, even if we wanted to.”
“Good to know, I guess.”
“We could fill a restaurant, though,” he said. “That wouldn’t be so hard.”
He steered me around some slow walking older folks in wide-brimmed hats and fanny packs. We were getting close to the end of the platform, and I felt a strange twist in my guts.
He slowed his pace and dropped his arm from my shoulder.
“Ready?” he asked.
I followed his gaze and saw a man sitting alone on the very last bench in the shade. He had olive skin, stubble on his cheeks, short dark hair. He wore a blue work shirt tucked into tight denim jeans. He was thin, his arms roped in veins, and his eyes flashed toward us.
“I guess so,” I said.
He walked forward and I followed just behind. The man on the bench watched as we approached and didn’t move or smile, his hands folded neatly in his lap, his back straight and prim.
“Santos,” Vince said and stopped a few feet from the bench.
“Hello, Vincent,” Santos said. “I see you brought a guest. I thought we were meeting alone.”
“This is Mona,” Vince said. “She’s my shadow.”
I gave Santos a little wave but he didn’t even look in my direction.
“I see,” he said. “And I thought we were leaving those at home as well.”
“If you want, we can turn around and leave,” Vince said.
Santos held up a hand. “Stay,” he said. “Sit, if you like.” He moved down to the far end of the bench.
Vince looked at me and nodded toward the tree. I took his meaning and wandered toward it, just a few feet behind the two of them as Vince sat down on the bench. Santos looked over his shoulder at me and frowned, and I just gazed back, head tilted like I was trying to study him.
He faced forward again. I was close enough that I could hear every word they said.
“I understand you’re angry,” Santos said.
“That’s an understatement,” Vince said. “And I think you know why.”
“We tried to kill you,” he said. “Of course you’d be unhappy.”
“What I want to know is why?” Vince asked.
“You were a convenient target,” Santos said. “You were unguarded, without your normal crew, and close to the Don himself. I felt you would send a strong message.”
“So, nothing personal, then.” Vince gave a bitter laugh. “You know you dug your own grave, don’t you?”
Santos didn’t move. He kept staring straight ahead, and I wished I could walk around and see his face. He sat so still, like a statue, and I wondered if he felt anything at all.
“Tell me, who’s idea was it to ally with the Russians?” Santos asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Vince said. “You all but guaranteed that’s happening.”
“I see. And I can’t change your mind?”
“You can’t,” Vince said. “Here’s the problem, Santos. You tried to hit me and failed, but you tipped your hand. Now we know you can be pushed around if we only combine our strength with the Russians. Now they have even more incentive to join up and get a better deal squeezed out of you guys.”
“Or your Gulf friends from New York will come down and push us out.”
Vince seemed to stiffen in response. He tilted his head to one side and looked at Santos.
“That’s the plan,” he said.
“It’s a bad plan,” Santos said. “We won’t roll over and allow it. We may not be strong here, but in Mexico, we rule.”
“True, but we’re not in Mexico, which you sometimes seem to forget.”
Santos fidgeted, just a little, and I frowned as I watched.
“What do you want to make this stop?” Santos asked. “Not just this little spat between our organizations, but this alliance with the Russians.”
“Nothing,” Vince said. “There’s nothing you could possibly offer me to make me want to bend over and take it from you.”
Santos turned his head toward Vince and I saw the confusion plain in his expression.
“Then why are you here?” he asked. “I thought this was a negotiation.”
Vince gave him a wicked smile, all blood and teeth and rage.
“No,” he said. “I’m here to tell you to your face that I’m going to gut you, gut your men, and rip your organization up by the roots. You never should have stepped to me, Santos. And now I’m going to burn you out like the rat you are.”
Vince stood abruptly and Santos stared up at him, his face screwed up in confusion. I walked toward them and joined Vince a few feet from the bench. Santos stayed seated and reached his hands out, palms up, like he was trying to implore us to stay.
“You’re making a mistake,” Santos said. “We can negotiate. Come up with a deal that benefits all of us. We’re businessmen.”
“We could’ve done that before you started shooting,” Vince said. “Now, you can go fuck yourself.”
“So it’s war then?” Santos asked.
“It’s war,” Vince said and walked off.
I hurried to keep up with him, my heart racing. He walked through the crowd with his head held high, his eyes hard and looking into the distance. I got close to him, grabbed his arm, tugged him back.
He slowed and looked down at me.
I bit my lip, heart racing.
“That wasn’t what Steven and Dante wanted,” I said.
“No,” he said. “It’s definitely not.”
“So why?” I asked. “You didn’t even try to hear him out.”
“I want him to make a move,” Vince said. “I’m not going to let this drag out. I want him to make a move, and when he does, I’m going to hit him so hard, so fast, he won’t ever be able to recover.”
I chewed my lip but he kept walking again, forcing me to hurry to catch up. I didn’t know if he was right, or if he’d lost his mind, but I wanted to be close to him. I wanted to touch him, feel him, lose myself in him.
God, it was the danger that got me. And Vince was danger, all of him wild.
22
Vince
We drove back to my place and my heart hammered the whole way back. I kept thinking about Santos, that snake face, those rat eyes. That bastard didn’t care if I wanted war, even if he pretended like he didn’t want things to go that way.
I knew it the second I sat down. He was there for the same reason I was.
We were feeling each other out.
Two boxers circling each other in the ring.
And I needed him to punch first.
I felt riled up and angry. I found a spot on my street, opposite the house. I parallel parked then turned to Mona. She looked at me with those big eyes, those pretty lips, and I reached out to her. She smiled a little, coy and incredible, leaning closer to me.
“I have a lot of calls to make,” I said. “After what happened at the park, I’ll need to warn the others.”
“You don’t want to go inside yet, do you?”
“Once I do, it’s work time,” I said.
He tilted her head. “So let’s stay here for a few minutes,” she said.
I nodded and reached out, pulling her closer. I kissed her lips, gently at first, but she returned my kiss with a surprising hunger.
I let my tongue roll against hers as I gripped her hair. She moved closer, halfway across the seats. I wanted to rip her top off, feel her breasts, tease her nipples, then sink my cock so far inside her tight little pussy that she never stopped feeling me.
She made a little moan as I bit her lip then kissed her neck. She reached out and fumbled at my belt, taking it off.
“You liked being there today, didn’t you?” I asked.
“Yeah, I did,” she said.
“You liked going to that meeting, speaking up. You liked speaking up with my father, too.”
&
nbsp; “I did,” she said again as she took my belt off and worked on the button and fly of my slacks.
I grabbed her hair and looked into her eyes. “I think you like this,” I said. “At first, it was all about the article. But it’s a lot more than that now.”
“I want to say you’re wrong,” she whispered. “But I can’t.”
She yanked my slacks forward, slid her hand down my pants, and found my half-hard cock. She worked it, massaging my shaft, stroking me as I kissed her. I groaned my pleasure and she managed to pull me through the slit in my boxer briefs. She took my cock in both hands, leaning over the center console, and stroked me up and down.
I took her hair and pushed her down. She opened her mouth and took my cock into her mouth. I leaned my head back and groaned as she sucked me, her head moving up and down next to the steering wheel. An old lady with her little white dog walked past the car, but didn’t seem to notice my cock down Mona’s throat.
I growled in pleasure and pushed Mona down deep. She bobbed up and down faster, lips sucking hard, tongue rolling around my tip. Pleasure flooded me, hot fire mixed with need.
“Fuck, girl,” I said. “You drive me wild, you know that? You want this as bad as I do, want to fuck things up, want to burn the world to ashes. You just went about it a different way.”
She pulled back with a gasp, stroking me fast and hard. I pulled her to my lips, kissed her, tasted my cock on her lips. I loved her in that moment, loved her more than I thought I ever could.
She went back down, opened her mouth, slid me deep into her throat. She gagged, moaned, kept sucking. I pushed her down, fucked her mouth, pleasure blooming all through me.
I never pictured her as the type to suck my cock right in the middle of the street. But fucking hell, I loved it. Goddamn, I loved it. This girl, she was wild, she was so much more than she appeared, and I wanted her, all of her. I wanted to take her and bring her into my world and keep her. No more bullshit, no more article, no more journalist.
I wanted her to be mine.
I groaned and said her name. She sucked faster, harder. I pushed her down as I came in her mouth, down into her pretty throat. She worked me, swallowed me, licked me clean from top to bottom. I leaned my head back with a sigh of total pleasure and relief as she came up, licking her lips.