“Ain’t it obvious?” Slash shouted. “That bastard must have got to my fighter’s trainer in Jersey. Knew he’d cost my organization a big chunk of change, right after offing me. That’s why I had to move fast and hit hard, and public, to show them all J.J. Slash is still in business, and ain’t taking no shit.”
Slash stopped in place for a moment, and Morgan glanced around the room. The other three men, the Convincers as he now knew them, were caught up in Slash’s excitement. Morgan thought he knew what came next. He had just heard a gang lord declare war. Slash had tried to rebuild his world in his own orderly image. Like Alexander, Napoleon and Hitler before him, he now realized it would not happen peacefully. So, he would force his model of sanity on his little world.
And here Morgan sat, in the war room, a trusted junior lieutenant. How could he prevent New York’s streets from flowing with red, as they had in the past, as L.A.’s streets still did from gang violence? Some people felt it didn’t matter if gang members killed each other off. Morgan saw it differently. Maybe because they were mostly black and Hispanic. Maybe just because they were so young. Maybe because he saw just about enough mass killing in Somalia and Rwanda as a soldier for hire.
“Home boys, we are going to end this in the next forty-eight hours.” Slash was starting low again, but his audience could see the energy behind his eyes. “My recruiters are out now getting lots of new brothers. We’re going to cover this place solid, then we going to hit the Guineas hard. Pull their snatch off the street and put all their pimps in body-fucking-bags. Little Minelli junior can’t mess with me no more, dig? He got to either get with the program or disappear, and if I have to stick my dick in his eye so he can see where I’m coming from, that’s what I’ll do. But to get the job done, we got to bring in some new blood.”
New blood to spill, Morgan thought. Slash spoke as if Minelli would just sit back and watch his operation taken apart with a quiet sigh. That intelligence estimate didn’t match up with yesterday’s acid attack. This would be a long, gruesome underground war. Morgan saw an alternative. He didn’t like it, but he knew how often one evil must be chosen over another. He stepped behind the sofa, so he faced Slash directly.
“Can I say something?” Morgan asked, in a firm yet quiet voice. Slash froze, and the others turned toward Morgan.
“Drop them shades, homie,” Slash said. Morgan pulled off the mirror lenses, and Slash stared hard into his clear light brown eyes. Morgan felt himself stripped to the bone and reconstructed by Slash’s gaze. He had to keep reminding himself to guard against this boy’s intuitive intelligence.
After a few long seconds Slash said, “Now, what you got to say, Slick?”
Morgan thought hard, phrasing with care. He needed to establish his expertise. “There might be another way, a less expensive way. Nobody wants a bunch of dead brothers laying around unless it’s really necessary.”
“These guys ain’t prone to no negotiating,” said Crazy Ray 9. Everyone smiled, and it eased the tension.
“I know this ain’t the jungle, but that’s the world I know so I’ll put things in that perspective,” Morgan said. “When you’re out in the jungle and you find the enemy stronghold, you got two choices. One, you can storm the place with an overwhelming force and just run him over. That’s the expensive way. I mean it will cost you a lot of men and ammo, and your informers inside if you got any.”
“Yeah, I got people next to him,” Slash said, calmer now. “Hate to blow them off.”
“Other way’s trickier,” Morgan said. “You take out the leader, just like last time.” Slash’s face fell. Morgan pressed on. “Look I know, Minelli junior is probably better covered, but that don’t mean he can’t be hit. Look, all I’m asking is you let me see all your intel reports and let me come up with a plan. Maybe we can do it long distance.”
“You was a spook, wasn’t you?” Slash asked.
“Yeah,” Daddy Boom put in. “A spook spook.” That drew another round of laughter.
“I did some undercover work, yeah,” Morgan admitted. “I worked with an Army team that, well, they officially didn’t exist when I was there. They’re called Delta Force now.”
“And you think you can nail this guy from outside his perimeter?” Slash asked again. The switch in vocabulary surprised Morgan. He considered how much he should tell this boy, and reminded himself that he had to stop underestimating him.
“I did a guy at over five hundred yards in Ireland a few months ago,” Morgan said.
“Five hundred feet, you mean,” Crazy Ray said.
“Yards,” Morgan repeated. “It was over sixteen hundred feet. Course, I had a special rifle.” While Morgan spoke Slash held his eyes. Morgan could see there was no doubt there.
“Tell you what, Slick,” Slash said. “Ghost can show you everything I know about Minelli and his gang. He can get in the computer and everything. Tomorrow we sit down, with my posse here, and you lay it out how you’d do it. If these three are down with it and I think it looks good, we run with it and you get a fat bonus. But, homes, this plan of yours, it just better be dope, hear?”
-23-
Once, while scuba diving in The Bahamas, Felicity’s foot brushed against a Portuguese man-of-war. Its sting caused shock followed by nausea, and her chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe.
Her feelings at that moment in Davis’ hotel room mirrored that time, but she dared not let Davis see how much his question affected her. How much did he know? Was this setup all an act? Did they already have Morgan? Perhaps Skorolos put it together correctly and muttered something while she retched in the bathroom.
Felicity had learned to maintain total facial control, even down to her micro-expressions, but even she couldn’t deny biology. Davis would have felt her pulse speed up while holding her hand. Felicity quickly rifled through her mental file cards of emotional reaction, considered for less than a second, and selected righteous indignation.
“Here I was going to tell you all about this terrible day I had, but now I’m wondering how you know I was in that awful place,” Felicity said, sliding her hand out of Davis’ grip. “Got one of your bully boys spying on me, have you?”
“Ghost saw you on his way out,” Davis said, pain showing on his face. “Naturally, he didn’t expect to see a lady like yourself in such a greasy dive. Look, I’ll back you up all the way. I just need to know.”
“A ghost? What the hell?”
“No no. That’s one of my men. He was there for business and recognized you.”
“Well, fine,” Felicity said. She had already figured out that Ghost had to be the man who followed her on the plane. She pushed her chair back, her mind spinning in high gear. Her explanation brought out her strongest Irish brogue. “I was taking a little constitutional on the boardwalk, if you must know, taking a look at American bathing suits, to see what I could wear here. Well, on me way back up to the Taj Mahal I spots this Skorolos inside this place, and he’s about to eat. I don’t know about you, but when I sees somebody I know, I generally gives them a wave and smile.”
Davis was listening closely, but Felicity thought she had him. He looked more embarrassed than suspicious.
“Well, the man stands up and waves me inside,” Felicity said. “Now what was I supposed to do, me thinking he’s a part of the team and all? You never told me he was in trouble or anything. He was all smiles and saying as how he hoped there was no hard feelings about last night’s fight and he’d be talking to you about it later.”
Felicity let horror creep into her expression, which was easy as she allowed memories of the real events to reassert themselves. “Next thing I know here comes the one you called Daddy Boom and this other guy and Skorolos is screaming like I set him up. Oh, Lord, they broke both his arms like it was nothing. Then Daddy Boom, he takes the man’s head and he shoves his face…his face…” Felicity dropped her chin to her chest as if overcome with emotion. She hoped she wasn’t overplaying it. She knew for sure when Davis
stood and put an arm around her.
“I knew there was nothing shady about it,” Davis said. “I just had to get the story. You know. Business.”
“Why’s it so important, Ross?” Felicity asked with a sniffle. “Don’t you trust me?” She was the embodiment of innocence when she turned those glowing green eyes on him.
“Of course I trust you,” Davis said. “I lov…” He cut himself off, like a child who almost gave away the secret code. His arm dropped, and he walked back to the other side of the table.
“Sorry,” Davis went on, fiddling with his fork. “You know, I’ve probably told three hundred women I loved them. Most of them older than I, none of them nearly as lovely as you. You’ve no reason to believe me. After all, I’m a con man. I lie for a living. But I’m not lying now. Felicity, I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”
If the first question shocked Felicity, this new revelation was a hammer blow to the skull. This isn’t happening, she thought. We haven’t known each other long enough for this. He’s sweet, and Lord knows he’s pretty, but how much of this is real? Is that sincerity I see in his eyes or the masterful emotional control of an artist plying his craft? How do I handle this?
“Well? Say something.” Having laid his heart on the line, Davis now needed a response. Felicity knew what it must be. Regardless of the truth, she had to play it as if it was all a con. Any other course could be emotional, and possibly literal, suicide.
“Ross, I…wow. What can I say?” She gave the least suspicious reply. Davis shoved the cart aside and wrapped his arms around her.
“Ross, I just don’t know,” Felicity said, staring into his opaque eyes. “I mean it’s all going so fast. I’m just not sure.”
Instead of answering, Davis bent his head and kissed her. His mouth pressed hers, gently at first, then with increasing intensity until she had to part her lips to admit his questing tongue. He drew her breath from her, sapped her reason, and she melted back into his arms. His strong right hand locked her shoulder in a grip that told her she couldn’t fall. His left hand slid down to just cup the top half of her derriere.
“I’m still not sure,” Felicity whispered when Davis lifted his head, letting her breathe again, “but I’m definitely leaning in favor.”
“Let me convince you.” Davis breathed the words into her ear, lifted her in his arms and walked toward the bed. Felicity tried to remember the dangers this situation held, but it was no use. The fires were lit, and they never burned themselves out. Silently, she paraphrased Scarlet O’Hara. “I’ll think tomorrow,” she thought. “Tomorrow is another day.”
During another long, gentle kiss, Davis delicately slipped open the buttons at the back of Felicity’s collar, easing the dress over her shoulders. She wanted to feel relaxed and willing, but she knew Ross felt her stiffen when his kisses trailed down her neck to her chest.
“Ross.” Felicity said. “Get the lights, okay?”
“But, I want to see you.” Davis’ words weren’t really a protest, but his eyes insisted.
“Please?”
Davis nodded, and walked over to the light switch. Next he headed for the table, to puff out the candles. At the last instant he hesitated, leaving a single wick burning. He hovered for five seconds, his lips poised but his eyes pointed toward the bed.
“All right.” Felicity’s voice came out of the darkness. “Just one.”
She never saw his smile until he was right next to her again, caressing, kissing, and undressing her. He was quite adept at this, Felicity thought. There is a special skill involved in dealing with women’s fasteners without being awkward. He managed to get her naked without fumbling or losing the warmth.
At the same time, Felicity worked at buttons, snaps and zipper, so when he finished with her clothing, he simply stepped back, letting his drop to the floor. She rolled under the covers and he followed suit. He felt very warm to her, all over, the single candle casting a pencil line aura around his golden form. Felicity sucked in a breath when he cupped one soft breast, and heard him do the same. Then his thumb brushed the rough line leading down her left breast, and she jerked away. His hand jerked away as if he feared that he had hurt her. His gaze cast down as if seeking a recent injury.
“Don’t look,” Felicity said, in a pouty voice. “It’s ugly.”
“It’s beautiful,” Davis said, his hand returning to the caress it had abandoned, “but how did you get cut here? Certainly no man…”
“No, it was a woman. She cut me for no reason except to make me ugly.”
“Well, that sure didn’t work,” Davis said, forcing her to look him in the eye. “You know what this does. It makes you unique. And it says something. It says, ‘this is no child you’ve got here’. It says ‘this is a woman who’s been there, who’s done it, who’s made it on her own, and she’s got the scar to prove it.’ And you know what else? It’s very sexy.”
Then Davis lowered his face very slowly and kissed the scar’s starting point. He laid a trail of tender kisses down its length, until he reached the end. The mark was a rough arrow pointing him directly to Felicity’s left nipple. When his mouth closed around it, his right hand curled playfully in the baby fine floss between her legs. Her head snapped back, a single sigh escaped her lips, and she could feel the swirling eddies of passion coming for her, coming to drag her into the familiar whirlpool of love.
She relaxed and let it take her.
“I love you, baby,” Davis whispered. “Just tell me what you want.” The lone candle had burned itself out long ago. Davis stretched lazily, reached out and turned on the bedside lamp.
Felicity stroked his smooth chest, her ear resting against his heart. “Oh Ross, darling, I don’t think there’s anything left.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Davis said. “Here, sit up a minute.”
“Uh-oh.” Felicity slid herself up, holding the sheet up over her breasts. “This sounds serious.”
“Listen. I don’t think you hooked up with me because you wanted a job. And I don’t think you did it because of my good looks, either.”
“Seemed like a good reason to me,” she teased, rubbing his stomach. Awareness was returning, and with it, her natural caution.
“Come on now.” Davis tried to be serious, but Felicity’s hands would not let him. “Let me in on your ulterior motive. I promise not to be angry, or cause you any trouble, but if you’re cooking something up to scam J.J., don’t leave me in the dark. He’s big on loyalty. Anything out of line, you’ll have him on your ass forever, and mine too.”
“You’re scared of him?”
“Baby, all I know is, when you got J.J. Slash on your ass, you truly have got somebody on your ass. I just need to know.”
Looking at Davis’ handsome features, Felicity decided to gamble. She could be truthful up to a point and still stay in character. Whether he loved her or was pretending, he would have to at least try to help.
“Okay, Ross, I’ll tell you, but you won’t like it.”
“Try me.”
“Well, it’s the art. With me, it’s always the art.” Felicity shifted her position on the sheet. Why don’t hotels leave a towel or something under the bed? “A couple of paintings I stole for you really hooked me. What I really want is to find out where they went. If they’re sold again, I can steal them again, to keep.”
“So that’s it.” Davis hugged Felicity to himself, stealing a quick glance down at her marvelous bosom. “Well, that ain’t no thing. When we get back to New York, I’ll just ask J.J. for his distributors list. Then we can find out who got the ones you want.”
“You’d do that for me?” Felicity asked, expanding her massage circle to include his abdomen and chest.
“Of course. All you have to do is promise to stay with me for a while, give this thing a chance.”
“Sounds like a winning deal for me,” she said, smiling. That was awfully easy. “When can we go?”
“Well, I do have some unfinished business here. We d
o. Do you play poker?”
“Well enough.” She started nipping gently at his chest.
“Good. If you got a good selection of marks, we can set up the game for this weekend. Cut that out, will you? If you sit in, my mechanic can make sure you win the money you’re owed for the last painting. After that, we’ll take off for New York and your lost art. After that, maybe a week in Aruba to get acquainted, eh? Or maybe the Turks and Caicos.
“There is one other thing I want,” she said.
“Anything,” Davis said, slipping a hand through her long, loose hair.
“You know that last thing you did? Right before the end? Could you do that some more?”
-24-
“Wonder when’s the last time they had an execution in Scarsdale?” Morgan asked himself out loud. If Ghost found it funny, he gave no sign.
Morgan rubbed his eyes with both palms. He had stayed up far too late last night, polishing his plan to take out the Italian gangster, and had spent too much time lying still in the back of this hot van. He needed to be at his best, since he was depending on so much that was undependable: an enemy he didn’t know enough about, a team he hardly knew, and a rifle he had not spent enough time with.
It had started two nights ago at Slash’s computer. That was when he found out Minelli lived way up here, past The Bronx, past Mount Vernon, past New Rochelle, in a huge rambling house in a peaceful suburban neighborhood. It constituted not so much a fortress as a protected village. His entire neighborhood was peppered with sub-lieutenants’ families. There was no way to know which windows within a two block radius of his home hid lookouts or guards.
Morgan was surprised to learn that Slash had people watching his main competitors for months. That intel proved invaluable. Minelli’s schedule varied from day to day in no pattern Morgan could see, except for the most important thing. He went home every night, and he left every weekday morning at about the same time. At eight o’clock each day, three close associates walked to his garage, got into his bulletproof BMW and started it up. Minelli kissed his plain but dutiful wife, climbed into his car, and rode off to direct his little crime empire.
Lost Art Assignment Page 12