Man Law

by Adrienne Giordano

  “Well, that sucks,” Tiny said.

  “Whoever took the pictures of Lily,” Vic continued, “had to have been a new cell or they would have been flagged coming into the States.”

  “That’s what we figured,” Mike said, coming into the conference room and taking his seat at the other end of the table. Mike, though not the suit-and-tie type, was usually all buttoned up. Right now, his shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows and his five o’clock shadow appeared heavier than normal. Everyone in the room must have noticed the difference, because all eyes focused on him.

  “We don’t know who we’re looking for,” Vic said.

  Mike stuck his bottom lip out. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “I’m still working on a couple of things,” Janet said. “Maybe your guy can follow up on them for us if I can’t come up with anything?”

  “Like what?”

  “A list of Sirhan’s aliases for one. I was able to find some of them, but I know there are more.”

  Vic made a note. “I’ll check on it.”

  “Tiny, you’re on Lily. Pick her up at the house in the morning and get her to daycare.”

  “Roger,” Tiny said, scratching his buzzed head. With longer hair, Tiny could easily be mistaken for Vic’s brother. Though Tiny’s eyes were blue, they shared the same facial structure and build.

  “Duck and Billy, you’re on the boys. Work it out,” he said. “Mike and I will handle Gina. Roy and Monk will stay on the house. We’re going to rotate on the house. I’ve got a couple of other guys flying in to help, but until they get here we’re doing double duty. Questions?”

  “If Sirhan’s here,” Duck said, “and we spot him, do we neutralize him?”

  Neutralize. As in permanently.

  “If you have to, yes. Obviously, the government would like to get their hands on this guy. If we can deliver him, score one for our team, but that’s not our responsibility right now. Keeping Gina and the kids in one piece is.”

  The ex-SEAL sat back and screwed up his big lips in disappointment. Murdering fool.

  Throwing his pen on the table, Mike sat forward. “Let’s not be afraid to break the bank on this. My sister and her family could be targets. No idea is too expensive or too stupid. Got it?”

  They all agreed.

  “If we need more manpower, we’ll add it,” Vic chimed in. “Janet, holler for whatever you need to keep the intel coming. I’ll do what I can with my government contacts.”

  “Sure thing,” she said.

  “We’re done here. Guys, head over to the house. The kids and Gina are all home now. Work out a schedule with Monk and Roy. Include me on it.”

  The staff filed out. He and Mike stayed in their seats and Vic propped his feet on the table. “This is fucked.”

  Mike rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Big-time.”

  “I went a round with Matt earlier.”

  “I heard.”

  He snorted. “Kid’s a piece of work.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for taking care of it. He thinks because he’s bigger than her, he can push her around.”

  That made Vic laugh. Gina may have given Matt a wide berth, but she had it in her to fuck up his world. “He’s young yet. He’ll learn.”

  “Amen, brother. Anyway, she’s making him apologize to you, so you’re going to be summoned.”

  “Oh, that’ll be pleasant. The kid wants me in his crosshairs.”

  “You’ll get used to it. He’s testing you. Figuring out which buttons will light you up. He did it with me after his dad died and my role got bigger.”

  Testing him? “He played me?”

  Mike grinned. “Like a fiddle, pal.”

  “Well, holy shit.” Vic laughed. “The kid’s pretty good.”

  “Yep. Now you’ll know next time. And there will be a next time.”

  First thing Tuesday morning, Gina stood in the stairwell outside of the Taylor Security executive offices. She stared at the back of the door and steeled herself for the negotiation she was about to engage in.

  Knowing Vic could be unreasonable when he wanted to be—no, really?—Gina prepared a speech. She fluffed her hair and gave her black blazer a good yank. She could do this.

  She marched toward Vic’s office and knocked on the open door. “Hi.”

  Frank Sinatra crooned softly from the stereo behind the desk. Sinatra? Who’d have thought?

  He glanced up from the computer screen and she spotted dark circles framing the bottoms of his eyes. Fatigue. He would work through it, though. She knew he could go days on ten minutes of sleep.

  “Did I keep you too late last night?”

  “Don’t I wish,” he joked.

  Her insides became jelly.

  After coming over the night before so Matt could apologize, Vic had stayed and gone over every inch of the house to determine where they needed to upgrade the security system. The house wasn’t that big, but he’d walked through it at least a dozen times. Exhausted from the day and wanting only to sleep, she’d finally thrown him out. The last thing she needed was him in the house when she was in bed. Can we say distraction?

  “I need to talk to you a minute.” She squeezed her butt cheeks together to remind herself to be strong.

  He leaned into the armrest of his chair. “What’s up?”

  The black pullover he wore gave him a GQ sexy look and her cheeks boiled. Don’t think about it. She needed this. “I forgot to mention I have somewhere to go Saturday night.”

  He froze, his whole body rigid. She hadn’t even said anything yet and he was getting mad.

  “You have to be joking. You expect me to escort you on a date? No way. Talk to your brother.”

  He went back to his computer. He thought she had a date? Oh. My. God. Of course he did. Saturday was date night and she’d just walked in acting nervous. After what had happened the week before, she should have been prepared for this. Every explanation lodged in her throat, but she managed a squeak. Wonderful.

  “It’s not a date. I should have said that. Sorry.”

  In a matter of seconds his demeanor changed. The hard angles of his face softened and he dropped his head in his hands. “No. I’m sorry. I’m tired and I jumped to a wrong conclusion.”

  Now they both felt bad. Why did this always seem to be the way with them? Gina sat in one of the guest chairs.

  “I promised I’d fill in with the band on Saturday night at Mizzy’s. Rochelle needs the night off.”

  Before Danny died, Gina had performed with a popular bar band and, after the accident, in an effort to be home with the kids in the evenings, she’d given up singing. Occasionally the group called her to fill in and she jumped at the chance. Performing professionally had always been her dream, but marrying Danny was also a dream, and when the kids arrived, she’d reshuffled everything, leaving her hope of a career unfulfilled. And still nagging at her.

  These opportunities to fill in were the beginning stages of her quest to find herself again, and she’d fight for it.

  Vic’s mouth hung open as if she’d sauntered into his office wearing a leather catsuit and carrying a whip. Actually, he’d probably like that. She held up a hand, her prepared speech ready to go.

  “I know you’re going to tell me it’s too dangerous, but I’d like to figure out a way to make this work. I don’t mind making exceptions, but I gave my word I’d do this. Besides, I’m excited about it.”

  “Yeah, but, Gina, it’s a huge, stinking bar. It probably holds three, four hundred people.”

  “I know.”

  He sat back. Stared at her.

  She straightened enough to let him know she wouldn’t give in. Nope. She hadn’t asked to be put into a situation where she couldn’t go places alone. Why should she have to give up something so important to her?

  Vic leaned forward, hit the speaker button on his phone and dialed four numbers. An internal call.

  “What?” Michael’s voice boomed.

  “Smackdown with your sister about to
happen.”

  “On my way.”

  They disconnected.

  Why did they need Michael? They were adults. They could figure this out. “Was that necessary?”

  Vic put up two hands. “I don’t want you going off on me.”

  “I won’t. I’m telling you what’s on my schedule.”

  “Yeah, but I’m getting irritated and, as you’ve seen—right in this office in fact—I’m not the most rational guy when I get emotional. Maybe I’m not thinking straight on this. When Mike gets here, we’ll ask him what he thinks.”

  “I don’t care what Michael thinks. You need to help me find a way to do it.”

  Now she was getting mad. And sounding like a brat, which she didn’t want either. She had a lot of restrictions on her life, and she accepted them as part of single parenthood, but being told what she could and couldn’t do? Not a chance.

  “What’s up?” Michael said from the doorway.

  Gina shifted sideways, squeezing the armrest of the chair to help her focus. “I’m supposed to sing Saturday night.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” Vic snorted. “Fucking oh.”

  “That’s a problem, G.”

  “Yes!” Vic, all big smiles, pointed at Michael with both hands. “My man. Thank you.”

  She stood. Oh no. No. No. No. They were not going to pull a boys’ club scenario on her. “Guys, I don’t want to be unreasonable about this. Think of me as one of your high-end clients. Tiffany Limone. Think of me as Tiffany, who needs to go to an event. You wouldn’t tell her no.”

  “Totally different,” Vic said. “Tiffany is a whack job. You’re not.”

  Michael laughed and Gina ground her teeth together. “This is not funny. All I’m asking is you give it some thought, some honest-to-God thought. After that, if you tell me it’s too dangerous, I’ll back off, but don’t brush me aside. This is important to me.”

  Michael sighed. Vic folded his arms. She didn’t care if she’d pissed him off. If they had taken her request seriously, she wouldn’t have had a hissy fit. She didn’t mind getting mad and hollering, but whining was not her style. Neither one of them spoke. Fine.

  “You can let me know what you come up with.” She strode out, leaving them both staring at her.

  Mizzy’s.

  What a fucking nightmare.

  Vic stood dead center on the dance floor and did a slow three-sixty. He blew out a breath. The place had a huge two-story open area in the middle, and various side corridors with rooms extending to the outer walls. The cavernous building, with its cement walls and exposed beams, had an eerie quality to it, and Vic didn’t like it.

  He checked his watch. Eighteen-hundred hours. Three and a half hours before Gina went on. They had some time before the place opened, but he, Mike, Tiny and twenty other Taylor Security operators had met the owner outside the locked building. Vic wanted his guys to be the first ones in to check the place out.

  Not surprisingly, the owner had no problems with the additional security. How many nightclubs received free security from a top firm because a band member had a stalker? At least that’s what they told him.

  “I’m all set,” Gizmo, their electronics whiz said as he came into the room. “I swept the whole place.”

  “No whackadoo terrorists hiding anywhere?” Vic asked, only half joking.

  “Nope.”

  “The walk-through metal detector at the front entrance is ready?”

  “Yep.”

  “And the guys at the door have handheld scanners in case someone’s keys go off and they need to be double-checked?”

  Giz rolled his eyes. “Yes. All the other emergency doors will be guarded by security. No one is getting into the building without going through the main entrance.”

  “Okay. We can let the employees in through the front door.”

  Mike walked in, wearing his weekend ensemble of jeans and a T-shirt. He’d go home before Gina’s show and change into slacks and a dress shirt. Mikey was a sharp, if not predictable, dresser. Vic would stay in his battered cargo pants and not so crisp T-shirt. He liked to blend into the crowd.

  “I just walked the perimeter with Gizmo,” Mike said. “It’s clear.”

  “You checked the second-floor fire escapes?”

  Mike scoffed at him.

  “Right. She’s your sister. I’ll check again before I leave, just in case.”

  “Suit yourself. I never thought I’d see the day you were high-strung.”

  “She’s in this goatfuck because of me and could get killed.” The idea of Gina on a slab curled around his spine, gnawed its way up. What happened to the emotionally bankrupt machine he’d been a week ago? The machine chose now to take a vacation?

  “And she’ll be fine because of you. Get over yourself.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Thanks, Mommy,” he said. “Don’t you need to be somewhere?”

  “Other than this therapy session?”

  Vic laughed. He wasn’t the only one who knew what buttons to push. “Fuck you.”

  “I’m going home to shower. Roxi is coming tonight,” Mike said.

  Oh, just great. Now Vic had to worry about Roxann too? What the hell?

  “I’ll head over in a while and get Gina. Tiny is going to bring the kids over to your place when Gina and I leave. She wants them in your building. She’s freaking out about that. The woman doesn’t care that she’s going to be on stage in front of hundreds of people but she wants the kids on total lockdown.”

  Inclining his head, Mike said, “She’s a mother. That’s what they do. My building is safer anyway.”

  Mike lived in a swanky high-rise with mucho security. Tiny and Roy would watch the apartment from inside the building, and Gina would feel better about the whole effing thing.

  It had been one bizarre week and the strain had dug in. Vic and Mike had been running Gina wherever she needed to go. No easy feat with a single mother who needed groceries and dry cleaning. Not to mention sports, dance classes and the litany of other kid-related activities.

  The lack of time Gina spent on herself stood out. So far, she’d been to an aerobics class three times after work. That was it. He got the impression this was normal. Maybe, with the guys on the kids day and night, Vic would encourage Gina to take up a hobby or something. Maybe he’d take her for a sail.

  All in all, he was one tired son of a bitch. He could handle battlefield stress, but the histrionics over lost tutus were a whole different matter.

  Not a peep from Sirhan though. Vic had no idea what the fucker was up to. Blood pumped through his veins like an out-of-control freight train. His head should have exploded from the pressure. He tensed his arm muscles, held his breath and let it all go.

  “I’m outta here,” Tiny said from the second story railing. He’d just finished a second walk-through. “Doors are good.”

  “Okay. When you leave, tell the guys to stay near those doors. I don’t care how early it is—I want the outside of this building crawling with security.”

  Nobody would sneak in. Not tonight.

  “The kids just left with Tiny and Roy,” Vic called up to Gina, still in her room getting ready. “I’ve got my men watching the front and back of the house, and we’ll set the alarm before we go.”

  The hall closet at the base of the stairs called to him. He’d checked it once already, but what the hell? He opened the door and checked it again.

  “You’re a bundle of nerves,” Gina said, smiling at him as she came down from the second floor.

  Forget his nerves because, holy shit, she had on one hell of a pair of tight black jeans and an equally tight V-neck shirt. Gina was sportin’ some cleavage tonight. Va-va-va-voom. Did he suddenly hear burlesque music somewhere?

  Throw in the wild curls and spike heels and he had himself one hell of a bombshell. Lush curves from top to bottom. All he wanted was to get her out of those clothes. Despite having done the deed with her three times, he’d never had the pleasure of seeing Gina but
t-naked, and it suddenly became a priority.

  And yes, he had a hard-on.

  A massive one.

  And she spotted it.

  Jesus H. Christ. Talk about the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.

  Gina stood on the bottom step, her nose inches from his, but she moved even closer, her warm breath on his face. “Is that a pickle in your pocket?”

  She tried to keep a straight face but, with that corny-ass line, burst out laughing.

  Funny thing. Her throaty belly laugh eased the constricted muscles in his shoulders.

  “Now that we’ve established you are smoking hot tonight—” Vic held his hand out, “—shall we go?”

  “Despite my X-rated thoughts right now, we shall.”

  He grunted. “Don’t even go there, sister.”

  A silent and kid-free house did not bode well for his raging body. Considering they had already proved their expertise when it came to lightning-fast sex. He grabbed Gina’s hand and hauled ass to the back door. All he had to do was get her into the car and to Mizzy’s. He just couldn’t look at her in the process. Piece of cake.

  He was so screwed.

  Vic tapped his feet waiting for Gina to go on. He sat ten feet from the stage at, quite possibly, the smallest table in the universe. Roxann snagged the seat to his left and Mike the one across from him. The funky dance music, decibels too loud, made his head pound.

  The lighting, if it could be called that, sucked. Tiny fixtures hung from the rafters, throwing shadows over the crowd. He saw enough to know Roxann looked great in jeans and a white button-down shirt with a chunky belt at her hips. She wore her blond hair pulled back, accentuating her cheekbones and the fact that she didn’t belong in this place. She had class written all over her. She and Mike didn’t necessarily blend in, but they didn’t have to.

  His cell phone buzzed and he unclipped it from his belt. Text from Bobby V. at the door. All was quiet. Mike glanced over and Vic gave him a thumbs-up.

  Mike leaned in and yelled, “They should be starting soon.”

  “Yeah.”

  Vic knew Gina performed occasionally, but he never went to see her. Out of respect for Mike, he had stayed away, but this was different. Technically, this would be considered work.