by Taylor Lee
He lay on top of her for many long moments. He shifted his weight enough to let her breathe, but couldn’t, wouldn’t pull out of her. He didn’t want it to end. He never wanted to let her go. Her clenching, tightening holds and whispery sobbing sighs confirmed she agreed. This was his woman. Jesus God. This beautiful, passionate woman--was his. And, God bless him, he was hers. When he heard her struggling to breathe, he rolled to his side pulling her with him. He stayed buried in her ass and held his hand over hers keeping the dildo in place. He covered her back, her neck, all around and inside her ears with kisses--murmuring unintelligible words of love.
He didn’t know how much time passed when he whispered to her to hold on to him. He gently removed the dildo from her soft folds pressing his lips against hers, swallowing her unhappy cry. He slid out of her ass and in one fluid movement rose up carrying her in his arms and headed to the bathroom. They stood against the shower wall waiting for the water to warm and their legs to stop shaking. Then gently, tenderly, they washed each other’s bodies, a ritual of love. Neither one of them spoke. They both knew they were in a hallowed place.
~~~
But even hallowed places could be breached. Even in a hotel as elite as the Palace Hotel and in a suite that cost more per night than a prize stallion, sometimes the walls had ears that could hear, eyes that could see.
~~
Chapter 26
The next morning, Elena lounged in the beautiful quartz lined bathtub, the centerpiece in the extravagantly opulent hotel bathroom. Bai had drawn the water for her and filled the tub with rose petals and jasmine, the warm aroma an inviting mix of sweet and spice.
Bai came in the bathroom carrying her robe and a glass of what looked like brandy. He laid her robe on the chair and handed her the glass.
“Here, cherie, here is a glass of the brandy Wan gave us as a wedding present. It is as smooth as one would expect from sixty years of aging. When we are on vacation, even for a single day, I think we can enjoy brandy for breakfast, oui, mon amour?”
“Oooh, this is delicious. And this bath is luscious. Will you join me, darling? Please, Bai, get in with me.”
“Not now, ma petite. I have a surprise for you after your bath, but first I want you to relax and enjoy the bath, yes, mon amour?”
“Oh, I love surprises. Quick, give me just a small hint? Is it something to wear? Something to eat? Something we will do today?”
“Hmm, after a fashion, I guess you could say it is all three. Mais qui, cherie, how can it be a surprise if I tell you what it is? Soak in your tub, and sip on this marvelous libation.”
Some time later, Elena thought she heard voices and assumed the servants had brought their breakfast. Much as she hated to leave the fragrant bath, the water had cooled and without realizing it she had drunk all of the brandy and was a little tipsy. She would have to tell Wan the brandy was spectacular and most relaxing. She smiled to herself, thinking she might crawl back in bed--after making love, of course. She would never be too tired for that!
She slipped out of the tub and dried herself off and then put on the beautiful robe Bai had packed for her. It wasn’t as transparent as the ones he usually chose. It was almost demure, elegant. Hmm, she thought with a smile, I guess he wants me to be a seductress today, not show all my wares at once. With a quick twist, she piled her hair on top of her head and rubbed jasmine leaves under her breasts and between her thighs. She loved the tingling feel on her sensitive skin and the way the spicy aroma mixed with the musky odor between her legs. Good God, I’m not even in the same room with him and I am already wet, she thought with chagrin. But what better way to let him know how much I love him and desire him.
Elena walked in the bedroom, then drew back in surprise when she saw Bai talking with a small Chinese man. They were standing by the sofa, speaking in Chinese and didn’t see her in the doorway.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know someone was here.”
She clasped her robe tight against her chest, grateful that Bai had selected a discreet gown.
Bai smiled at her and walked toward her holding out his hand. His eyes were twinkling and it was clear he had a secret.
“Elena, this is Chou Li. He is part of the surprise I told you about.”
At that moment, Elena saw a tray of instruments on the small table beside the bed. It took her a moment then a rush of trepidation hit over her when she understood what they were.
“Those are for…the…piercings…for our rings?” She managed to stammer.
“Yes, cherie. Don’t be frightened. Chou Li is a skilled practitioner, the finest there is in San Francisco. He was gracious enough to accept my request to ‘implement’ my wedding gifts for you.”
“I… I didn’t expect to do this so soon, Bai.”
Elena was trembling and her eyes were wide as she looked askance at the tray of fierce looking instruments.
“Ah mon amour, you know, I am an impatient man. A hungry man with many appetites. I am eager to see the lovely rings on your beautiful body. How can I wait when I know how stunning your nipples and pussy will be decorated in precious jewels?”
He smiled at her hesitation and pulled her close to his chest. He whispered in her ear.
“Now tell, me, ma petite fille, would you like me to go first? Let Chou Li pierce the end of my cock, so that you can see how it is done?”
Elena shivered and clung to his chest.
“No…no…Bai. I think I better go first or I don’t know if I will have the courage to proceed.”
“Oui, mon amour. Come cherie. Lie here on our bed—upon these pillows. I will lie beside you and whisper outrageous things in your ear to distract you. Chou Li tells me that each of your nipple piercings will take no more than a minute or so, although the ones on our more extravagant parts may take a little longer. Also, let’s have another glass of Wan’s brandy. It will have a pleasant numbing effect. Someday, we will tell him what we used it for, oui? Do you think he will be amused?”
Elena gave a shaky laugh, then seeing the banked excitement in Bai’s eyes, she took a deep breath and reached out for his hand.
“You are an amazing lover, Bai. And I have to tell you seeing that wicked wolf winking at me from the end of your cock is worth any pain I may feel.”
Bai roared with laughter. Chou Li who also understood English turned his head to hide his smile.
“Remember, cherie, we will have to wait several days before we attach our rings but God yes, it will be worth the wait. Come love; let us drink to one another and to a lifetime of erotic adventures.”
“And, Bai…to the wicked warlord?”
“Mais oui, Elena. To wicked – always wicked.”
~~
Chapter 27
Friday night was cool, dark, threatening to rain. It was a moonless night and what stars there were hid behind a bank of heavy clouds. Four of Aldo Marcello’s men waited in the abandoned warehouse next to a remote part of the New York harbor.
They knew their job, what was expected of them. They had been doing it for so long that it had become mindless and their complacency showed. Over the years, they had become sloppy, lazy about protocol, as testified by the four empty grappa bottles strewn on the ground.
It was nearly one in the morning and the last of the gang emissaries had left. The men added the final bundle of cash to the overflowing crate and prepared to hammer it closed.
Angelo and Rico settled the top on the crate and began driving in the nails. Baggo dragged over a wheeled pallet to transport the crate to the boat waiting in the harbor.
Sal stood beside them, checking off the names of the gangs who had graciously added their loot to the overflowing pile, and shook his head in appreciation.
“You have to hand it to that son of a bitch, Aldo. He’s smart as hell. Who else could think up a money pit like this and get fifty goddamn gangs to go along with it?”
“Think it has anything to do with the fact that they know they’re dead men if they don’t particip
ate?” Baggo asked with a disgruntled sigh.
“Yeah, well there is that factor,” Sal added with a grin. “But you still have to give Aldo credit for thinkin’ it up. Shit, I remember when we had four gangs participating and now, for Christ’s sake, we got fifty with four more likely next month. Aldo’s damn well made himself the leader of every fuckin’ gang in New York. There ain’t a single gang that don’t acknowledge that fact.”
Angelo hammered the last nail in the crate and lit a cigarette.
“You’re right, Sal. And it ain’t just the number of gangs that have grown. Fuckin’ hell, if your tally board there is any where near correct, we got close to a million dollars worth of loot stuffed in this little packing crate.”
Rico nodded.
“And that doesn’t count the jewels we got this time. Christ, how the hell could D’Magio’s gang think they could get away with stealin’ from a goddamn museum? Somebody said Queen fuckin’ Nefertiti wore the damn thing!”
Sal laughed and his faced cracked with a sly grin.
“Well, they actually did get away with it. What they didn’t get away with is thinking they didn’t have to include it in the monthly loot for Aldo.”
He added, “And Christ, it only took choppin’ up two of their men for Aldo to demonstrate what happens when the little guys think they can hold back from the big man.”
Baggo rolled his eyes and said what they all thought though usually no one was brave enough to say it out loud.
“You know, we’ve been about as loyal as a group of Wops could be. Wonder when Aldo might think about shoving a little of this booty our way. Hell, we ain’t stolen so much as a fiver in two years of collecting the loot.”
Sal grinned again, but there was no humor in his hard eyes.
“You’d think we all like our braggioles and bollocks nestled up against our hairy asses rather than Aldo hand feedin’ em to his fuckin’ mutts.”
The other three men nodded and each one gave a little hitch to his trousers, just to confirm why they wouldn’t think of stealing from Aldo. What was left unsaid was that even though they had worked together for more than two years, they didn’t trust each other; any one of them could be Aldo’s eyes and ears. It was a mindset, a culture that Aldo bred in the gang and it served him well. Not only were his men scared shitless of Aldo, they were all scared of each other.
There was a rustling sound outside the door and the men looked up with mild interest.
“It’s okay,” Baggo said. “It’s time Dante and the boys come help us load the boat.”
“If they haven’t drank themselves to a stupor, that is. Just becuz we got that ring of off duty cops guardin’ the road, I don’t like it when Dante and the others get so bolloxed they forget we got priorities.”
Rico guffawed with a disdainful shrug at the empty bottles against the wall.
“Bolloxed, kinda like we do?”
The words had barely left his mouth when his cigarette dropped from his hand and Rico hit the ground face first a ten inch blade sticking out of the back of his neck.
“Bloody hell! What the fuck…”
Sal shouted reaching for the gun in his pants. He got no further when a bullet hit him between the eyes and he crumpled to the ground.
At that moment, five masked men strode though the doorway, leaving Baggo and Angelo standing wide eyed and shaking.
The men were tall, well muscled, and all were carrying guns. They had hoods over their heads and all you could see were their eyes and mouths.
The biggest one stepped toward Baggo and Angelo and, while they couldn’t see his grin, you could sure as hell hear it in his satisfied voice.
“Well, well, lads, don’t tell me that fuckin’ Aldo is so confident that he’s only got you four shites handling all this swag? “
The man next to him guffawed.
“Don’t forget them bleedin’ arseholes we took down at the road. Sure ‘en I ain’t seen so many crooked coppers since we shagged that Wop wedding party.”
“Well, now that they’re all knockin’ on St. Peter’s door askin for directions to hell, can’t assume they’re crooked no more. Along with those fuckin’ little clackers Aldo calls guards.”
Two more gunshots brought Baggo and Angelo to the ground. Minutes later, stacks of dead men lined the warehouse walls, eighteen in total, counting the cops on Aldo’s payroll.
Pawing through the crate, the tall masked man said with a grin, “Looks like Sal’s estimate was off. Even without the stolen museum necklace, this crate’s got over a million dollars of loot,”
His cohort chortled, “This has gotta be the largest take by far in Aldo’s operation.
Jesus, just think. Fifty one gangs contributed their hard earned cash to make that asshole rich.”
“Yeah, but I can promise you one thing,” his tall friend guffawed, “tomorrow at the very least Aldo Marcello’s gonna have fifty-one very pissed off colleagues.
Several hours later, as dawn was breaking, Tom Caldwell answered the door to his high rent apartment in the heart of New York’s financial district. He opened the door and nodded to the five masked men on the porch.
“Good evening, or perhaps good morning is more accurate. How did it go, Quitin?”
“The way everything does when Bai and Wyatt plan it. Flawlessly.”
Tom smiled and nodded to the five Chinese men as they removed their hoods.
“Please come in. The safe is in my office. My cook prepared a light meal for you and I have some of the finest brandy you are likely to drink in this lifetime waiting for you. Congratulations. Job well done, men.
“One more question. How many dead”
Manchu smiled, knowing what Tom was asking.
“Sixteen all together. We only wounded the other two.”
Liang’s face split in a wide grin. Assuming his best Irish brogue, he added, “Sure’en we needed to leave a couple lads to give witness to the nature of the bleedin’ perpetrators. Be Jaysus, sure ‘en ye wanna give proper credit where credit is due.”
Tom shook his head and grinned at the incongruity of the Irish nonsense coming out of the mouth of the young Chinese man.
“Goddamn, I’m glad I’m on his team. Bai knows how to twist a knife from three thousand miles away. Friend or foe needs to be wary.”
~~
Chapter 28
Aldo Marcello swore that if it was the last goddamn fuckin’ thing he did, he was going to kill the Frenchman. He sat at his desk, his eyes blazing with anger, staring at the note from Rory Calhoun.
You’ve been had asshole. You should of known better than
to take on the Frenchman.
Aldo lost three days chasing after the fucking Irish, three days that allowed every goddamn gang leader in the syndicate to discover their money was gone. But that son of a bitch Calhoun convinced the other gangs he was innocent and that Aldo had stolen their money.
Somehow the fuckin’ Mick got hold of Sal’s manifest logging in Friday nights’ payments from each of the gangs. That fuckin’ Calhoun was waving it around, crowing that as sure the hole in your arse, that gobshite Marcello had stolen their money. And goddamn if those cocksucking gang leaders didn’t believe the Irish prick and were out to get Aldo.
The threats had gotten personal, graphic. Aldo considered making good on the money the gangs lost, but to his horror discovered he couldn’t repay them if he wanted to. Every one of his crooked bankers had closed their doors to him, as though he was the Grim Reaper rather than the man who made them rich. No amount of screaming fits or threats crashed though their wall of silence. It was as though a fucking powerful someone put up a wall that Aldo couldn’t scale.
Later that day Marcello learned that his erstwhile banking buddies were cowering behind their closed doors afraid of more than him. Each of them received a letter detailing their transactions with Aldo.
An accompanying invoice gave them five days to pay the amount they had received from their illegal dealings with Marcello
to a bank in Switzerland:
Capital Financier Intégré
D'attention: Le Français et al
The coppers he owned were as bad as the bankers. No one would return his calls and the men he sent to round them up came back empty handed. One of his men told him there was a rumor going around City Hall that the police commissioner received an anonymous note with a list of cops who were on Marcello’s payroll. The investigation turned the normal corrupt workings of the police force ass over elbows and everyone was running for cover. There wasn’t a soul left who would acknowledge his own mother, much less his relationship with Aldo.
It was as though someone had yanked out the keystone of his organization and the whole goddamn thing was crumbling, brick by brick. Worst of all, and what had Aldo sitting at his desk drinking alone, was the reaction of his men, fucking ungrateful bastards that they were. Half his gang hadn’t shown up in the last three days and those who did had a funny look in their eyes. Something was missing and no amount of whiskey could keep Aldo from seeing what it was. His men were no longer afraid of him.
There was a knock on the door and Aldo looked up, assuming it was Carlos, surprised he’d knocked. Aldo had started locking the door and given Carlos the only other key. He shouted out for him to come in and heard him say something about misplacing the key. Jesus fucking Christ, Aldo thought as he padded to the door, was everyone around him as stupid as shit? With an annoyed growl, he reached the door and unlocked it. Before he could turn the knob, the door slammed open and two masked men burst in, knocking him to the ground.
Aldo crawled back and screamed, yelling for Carlos. One of the men grabbed him by the neck and smashed him against the wall. The other man casually locked the door and turned back to face Aldo. He took off his mask and, to his shock, Aldo saw that he was Chinese. The man holding him dropped him and took off his mask, another goddamn Chink!