Diamond Girl

by ANDREA SMITH

  He threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to his chest, kissing the top of my head.

  “I know, babe. We’ll figure something out, okay? The most important thing is for you and Lindsey to be safe. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but with slime like Jack, you just never know who he may have pissed off.”

  “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  “Starving,” he said with his lazy grin.

  “Slate - how did I not see you on the exterior cameras?”

  “I was a green beret, Sammie. We have our ways.”

  CHAPTER 48

  The following morning was Saturday so I was graced with having Slate sleeping beside me once again when I woke up. I stretched languidly next to him, a smile coming to my lips as I replayed last night in my mind over and over again. It had been delicious.

  Slate and I had made love very creatively. There had even been food involved, at one point. I felt my face flush when I recalled how he had me straddle him with my back to his front as he sat in Jack’s chair in the master suite. I had ridden him up and down, the position allowed him to hit some very special places I hadn’t yet discovered. I became very vocal it seems; Slate said I was talking way dirty; directing him to keep stroking my ‘you-know-what’ with his ‘you-know-what’ until I ‘f’ing’ came all over him. I had denied it when he told me, but I was sure he had no reason to lie; in fact he was extremely pleased about it.

  I felt him stir next to me. He always seemed to sense when I was awake even if I didn’t move or say anything. I thought it probably had something to do with his special forces training in the military.

  He pulled me up against him, splaying his fingers on my naked belly as we ‘spooned.’ I felt his warm lips kissing the back of my neck; his hand lifted my hair up so that he had access. I shivered against him. Just then we both felt the baby move; it felt like a somersault which wasn’t all that unusual.

  “Wow,” Slate said; I could tell that he was grinning, “He has some good moves, doesn’t he?”

  I rolled over to face him, gently kissing his lips.

  “Yes, he does; just like his father. I hope ‘Tate’ looks just like you, Slate.”

  “Tate?” he asked, a puzzled frown appearing. “I thought it was ‘Grant’?”

  “No - I changed my mind. I thought I told you I was prone to that.”

  “Well, be prepared to change it again then baby; ‘Tate Slater’ is not a good combo. I can just hear the kids now calling him ‘Tater Slater’ or some bullshit like that. No way - it won’t be ‘Tate.’

  “I am the one carrying this baby; I am the one that will go through the pain of childbirth. I will name him whatever I desire.”

  “Think again, babe. I reserve the right of approval, got it?”

  I squirmed in his arms but he didn’t budge. I looked at his face; he was serious and he wasn’t going to back down.

  “We’ll find something we can agree on, I’m sure,” I grumbled.

  “Good,” he replied, smacking my bottom gently as he rolled away from me. “Let’s shower; then we have work to do.”

  “What work?”

  “You are calling the security company for the upgrade; then we are going to go over Jack’s cell phone detail that we subpoenaed; I need your help in identifying phone numbers you recognize.”

  I rolled my eyes, not anxious to be holed up all day going over phone records and being drilled by Slate to see if I recalled the number. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely wanted to be drilled by Slate but in other ways.

  We had spent about three hours reviewing the records; so far I had recognized Susanne’s number about a zillion times, Lindsey’s cell number about a dozen times, my number a few times and about ten numbers I hadn’t a clue about. Slate said he would get those numbers ran to see who it was that they belonged I was definitely getting bored.

  We were now rummaging through copies of our financial records that Slate had been given to mark up expenditures on Jack’s debit card. There were the usual charges for has, restaurants, hotels; a couple of major cash withdrawals were shown from an ATM located in Fort Wayne, Indiana. That was strange as I was not aware of any dealings he would have had there. Slate was going to check the ATM locations to see if the cameras revealed any other individuals being nearby when Jack made the transactions and to make sure that it was in fact Jack doing them.

  By now, I was extremely bored. I sat at the table with my head perched in my hand stifling a yawn. Slate was all about forging on; I didn’t think I could take much more. He finally noticed.

  “Are you tired, babe? Do you want to take a nap?”

  “Uh huh,” I replied smiling, “As long as you will take one with me.”

  I saw his slow, lazy smile spread across his handsome face.

  (Oh my; he did make me tingle in ways I never thought possible . . .)

  “I think that can be arranged,” he said, taking my hand and leading me upstairs to the master suite.

  Slate undressed me slowly and sensually; cupping my breasts in his hands; lowering his mouth to them to tease and tantalize them with his tongue. He hooked his thumb into the waistband of my panties and pulled them down. He shed his clothes immediately, lifting me up and placing me on my back on the bed.

  From there, he began his sensual journey down my body with his mouth and tongue. He pleasured me in every way possible, taking his time and savoring every inch of me. I moaned softly and moved my body rhythmically to his touch.

  “Are you ready for me?” he asked softly as he prepared to thrust himself inside me.

  “I am, Slate,” I answered, spreading myself underneath him to welcome him in.

  He rose up and guided his very erect shaft into me, causing me to gasp in pleasure as he filled me with himself. I immediately clutched him closely to me, wrapping my legs around his hips, digging my bare feet into his very muscular butt as he plunged himself in and out of me.

  The house was empty except for us; whatever he was doing at the moment felt totally exquisite. I writhed in pleasure beneath him, crying out each time he rocked in and out of me. My pulse quickened, I was moaning loudly; he was bringing it home for me. I was quickly reaching my crescendo being extremely vocal about it.

  All of a sudden the sound of the security panel that had been installed in the master suite started beeping; I could make out one of the red warning lights blinking. The computerized voice indicated an ‘intruder in Sector 2’ wherever that happened to be.

  Slate was up and off of me in a second; he pulled his jeans up and motioned for me to stay put. If I didn’t punch a code in within thirty seconds, the authorities would automatically be dispatched. I realized that thirty seconds was a long time when one is riveted with fear. Slate was here; how much worse would it have been if it had only been me?

  He slipped soundlessly from the room, whispering for me to lock the door behind him. I scrambled off of the bed and followed his instruction. I made it a point to look at the clock on the nightstand; I had to get some sense of time in all of this. It read 12:49 a.m. At 12:54 a.m., Slate hollered for me to come down. I slipped my panties on and tied my robe around me. I unlocked the bedroom door and went down to the main floor where Slate was checking various doors and windows.

  I could see the flashing lights of the security patrol car that had been dispatched. Slate had the door open before the two security officers reached the threshold. I stood there in a semi-fog while he took charge of the situation.

  He led them through the kitchen and dining room to the patio doors leading to the deck. That is where the ‘perp’ as he termed it gained entrance.

  I followed them listening to Slate’s assessment. God, he was such a ‘G-Man’ I thought as he pointed out that a small, perfectly round hole had been cut into the glass with a diamond wheel glass cutter. From there, the perp had reached in an unlocked the deadbolt. Slate pointed out several thread fibers that were stuck to the sharp edges of the hole in the glass from the perp’s
gloves.

  Several minutes later the county sheriff’s deputies arrived to make a formal report. They spent about thirty minutes going over the outside of the house with flashlights looking for any other clues the perp had left. Slate concluded he had been scared off by the blinking panel when he reached the kitchen area. He also noted that the laptop which had remained on the kitchen counter was gone.

  Damn! That meant that the opportunity to access what the cameras had recorded and saved to the hard drive were gone, as well. I kicked myself for not taking the instructions I was given about hiding the laptop seriously. I had simply left it out on the kitchen counter in plain sight.

  The deputies said they would send the crime lab out first thing in the morning; they asked that we steer clear of those rooms where the perp had been until it had been thoroughly dusted and analyzed. I knew they wouldn’t find anything; so did Slate.

  After they left, Slate and I climbed the stairs back to the master suite. I crawled under the covers shivering even though it was late July. Slate got naked and crawled in beside me.

  “Who do you think it was?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest, babe. If I had to guess, I would say it was someone who has a score to settle with the rat bastard; he owes somebody something; we have to figure out who and what.”

  I curled up next to him, feeling safe now with his arms around me.

  “Get some sleep, babe. You need to have Lindsey stay awhile longer with your folks. I’m going to be staying here with you until we get a grip on this; I’m bringing a couple of my guns over here, too. I’m going to teach you how to use one.”

  “Slate,” I started, “I don’t - -”

  “It’s not up for debate, Sammie.”

  CHAPTER 49

  The next week flew by quickly. I had told Lindsey there had been an attempted break-in at the house. I told her to stay put with my parents until further notice. She wanted me to stay with them, as well. I told her I would be fine; I had someone looking out after me. She didn’t question me further.

  As promised, Slate now carried his government issued 9 mm semi-automatic gun with him when he came to the house. He also brought a small 32 caliber snub-nosed handgun for me. I wasn’t comfortable with it at all. I had never held a gun in my life. Slate taught me the proper way to handle it, load it, unload it and clean it. He had taken me to the shooting range a couple of times demonstrating the proper way to aim and shoot.

  Slate was spending every free moment with me. He was there in bed next to me, on top of me, or underneath me each and every night. No new information had surfaced on Jack or Susanne.

  As expected, the crime lab was not able to pick up any prints from the break-in. The alarm system had been upgraded per Slate’s instructions; the new laptop was set up inside a locked cabinet so anything recorded to the hard drive would be available if needed.

  I was getting dressed for a meeting with Donovan and some of the forensic accountants that had finished their investigation. My father was picking me up in about fifteen minutes.

  I went into the bathroom where Slate was shaving.

  It seemed so natural for him to be here now. I went over and kissed him on the cheek he had already shaved. He was fresh from the shower, a towel wrapped around his hips.

  “My dad will be here in a few, so I guess I’ll see you later?”

  “I should be back here before it gets dark, Sammie. I have a few leads that Taz and I are checking out. We’ll be in Fort Wayne most of the day.”

  “Okay,” I said with a sigh, “Lindsey’s birthday is tomorrow. I’ll probably be out the rest of the day shopping for her. I’ll have my cell with me.”

  “Be careful,” he said, “Pulling me close for a warm kiss.”

  “You be careful,” I replied, patting his ass. “By the way, when is your birthday, Slate?”

  “September 3rd,” he replied with a grin.

  “So you will be twenty-seven in September?”

  He started to answer then his cell phone rang.

  “Got to take this, babe; see you later.”

  My father was pulling up the driveway when I went out onto the front porch to wait. I got into his Lincoln Town Car, looking around the neighborhood as we pulled out onto the main road. I was still in the dark as to where Slate was parking his pick-up truck.

  “How’s Lindsey?” I asked.

  “She seems to be doing okay; I think it’s good that she returned to work. We usually eat lunch together every day.”

  “I’m glad Daddy; she needs a decent male figure in her life right now. I still can’t believe Jack deserted her without a second thought.”

  The meeting with the forensic accounts and Donovan proved enlightening. It was about time some answers were forthcoming.

  In a nutshell, the two former chemists at Banion had sung like birds in order to get the pending criminal charges against them reduced. Jack had enlisted their assistance in manufacturing unstamped Percocet and Vicoden tablets from the active raw materials that had falsely been written off as being disposed of by reason of expiration or scrapped due to arriving in damaged containers.

  Obviously, the records had been falsified and inventory counts misrepresented over a period of time. The chemists had been receiving a nice chunk of change under the table which likely explained those periodic miscellaneous cash withdrawals from our private account over the past year and a half.

  Jack had then used the OMC as his primary marketing channel for distribution of the pills. As near as the accountants could tell, the total street value of the drugs involved over the period of time in question was approximately $1 million.

  Jack apparently had an additional scheme going to help finance the operation. There were several different insurance claims submitted for company cars in various locations in the U.S. purportedly involved in collisions. The driver or passengers claimed medical damages and loss of income. The insurance companies had paid out on these claims; some involved Banion owned vehicles as the claimant; other times they were the driver at fault.

  Donovan said that several of the ‘non-Banion’ claimants were members of the OMC in Fort Wayne. One of the claimants was Susanne Reynard. She had been driving one of the Banion company cars in Charlotte, North Carolina last fall when Jack had made his weeklong trip. That claim had paid out $50,000 to her for purported lost wages. Jack had signed off on the affidavit to Motors Mutual as her direct line supervisor validating the lost wages.

  (What a total crock of shit!)

  There were now outstanding warrants issued against Susanne for insurance fraud, mail fraud, and racketeering. She apparently had acted as the intermediary between the OMC contact in Fort Wayne and Jack.

  Several pieces of the puzzle were missing; records and data lifted by forensic examination of Susanne’s computer which she had attempted to wipe clean. The data pulled from the hard drive indicated that some type of deal had been underway involving the trafficking of assault weapons and cocaine. Again, the OMC was involved but no specific names had been lifted.

  My father dropped me back off at home; I immediately got into my car and headed towards the mall. The truth was, I didn’t like being in my own house these days if Slate was not there. I was totally creeped out.

  I spent the afternoon shopping then stopped by Brenda’s house to give her the update on everything. I was home sitting out on the back deck sipping iced tea when Slate arrived. He had come around from the side of the house as if looking for me.

  “Hey you,” he said, coming up onto the deck. “I’ve been looking for you inside.”

  “I don’t like being in there without you being with me,” I said with a shrug. I knew it sounded ‘needy’ but it was the truth.

  He pulled me up from my chair, wrapping his strong arms around me. He was comforting me. He had been doing a lot of that lately.

  “Let’s go inside,” he said softly. “I’ve checked everything including the camera recordings. No one has been poking around at all.”
>
  “How long have you been here?”

  “About an hour.”

  I hadn’t heard him come in; but then I usually didn’t. He was my ‘Slate-ninja.’

  We spent the rest of the evening talking about what I had learned at the meeting this morning; I wrapped Lindsey’s presents while Slate pondered something. He had become unusually quiet.

  “How did things go in Fort Wayne?” I asked.

  “Fine.”

  “That’s it? Just fine?”

  “Sammie,” he used his warning tone with me. I hated that he constantly kept me in the dark. If I learned anything, I had to hear it from Donovan. I was sure Slate already knew all about the findings that were discussed in this morning’s meeting; he was such a stickler for protocol.

  “Never mind,” I said, getting up and heading towards the stairs.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get a shower and then go to bed.”

  “Don’t be pissed, babe. You know the routine by now.”

  “Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I grumbled.

  I showered then dressed in a light nightie crawling beneath the covers. I was exhausted; the heat and humidity of late July seemed to suck my energy. The house was cool with the air conditioning going, but I looked forward to the fall every year by the first of August.

  I felt Slate crawl into bed beside me some time later. I was still a bit miffed that he couldn’t share anything with me. I knew that I could be trusted; why didn’t he? He pulled me against him, circling an arm around me. I felt him kiss my hair, his fingers combing through my still damp locks. I pretended to be asleep; if he knew I was awake he would likely want to fuck and tonight I was just too tired. I felt his hand lifting my hair up away from my neck; I felt him nuzzle his face against it, pressing warm, soft kisses on my skin. God that felt so good. His hand settled on the swell of my belly. I was nearly five months pregnant. The baby’s movements were getting stronger.

  Slate kissed the back of my neck again; his hand gently rubbed my baby bump. Ever so softly, I heard him whisper, “I love you.”