Guarding His Desires (Passionate Security Book 2)

by Jaylen Florian

  "I told Pete he could help me top you," Rafael asserts. "Pete can be a top to help me satisfy your insatiability."

  "Nah, I don't think that is what he said, is it, Pete?" Aleksey asks.

  "It is," Pete says, shrugging and stepping out of the coveralls at his ankles. "A threesome."

  "Why did you think you would be attracted to me?" Aleksey asks.

  "Rafael showed me your picture," Pete answers.

  "When? Today?"

  "Yes, just before we came here."

  Aleksey nods at Pete and watches Rafael pull his boxers down to his knees.

  "You have a good body, Pete," Aleksey says.

  "Thank you, but it is not half as hot as yours."

  "Rafael likes it. That is all that matters."

  Aleksey calmly lifts off the bed and hugs Rafael.

  "Or I should say, it is all that used to matter," Aleksey says, kissing Rafael on the forehead with an exaggerated smacking sound.

  "That is goodbye?" Rafael asks.

  "It sure is," Aleksey answers, then turns toward Pete. "Rafael is all yours now."

  "You are leaving?" Pete asks.

  "Of course."

  "You had him strip me in front of you to humiliate me?"

  "No, Pete, I needed to see how he touched you. And how you responded. What I saw was plain and clear. You two have touched each other before."

  "So what?" Pete asks.

  "I have been faithful to Rafael," Aleksey answers.

  "Rafael told me you were the hottest piece of ass and a longtime friend of his."

  "We were more," Aleksey replies. "Good luck to you, Pete."

  "Aleksey, it is not cheating if you are included," Rafael says, following him down the hallway and the stairs. "All this long distance shit. I don't know what you are doing in other cities. You won't even tell me who you work for. All these damn secrets."

  "Try not to hurt Pete," Aleksey says. "I am leaving you sad, but not angry. Take care."

  Aleksey gently closes the door, meanders around the residential neighborhoods, and returns to the condominium complex once his heart rate and breathing return to normal. Zachary, waiting for him at the door of the unit, embraces Aleksey, shuts the door, and lets Aleksey know he can cry on his shoulder.

  "No tears today," Aleksey says. "Not today."

  "You were a champ for giving love a try," Zachary says.

  "I will fall in love again. I still have hope."

  "Then be ready for the pain and the disappointment. Don't be in a hurry to choose."

  "Choose between what?" Aleksey asks.

  "Love or freedom. You have to realize what you really, truly need."

  19

  Intersect

  Gustavo, at the moment, is equally frustrated and amused. The office complex's two wings deceptively pose as arms, welcoming visitors in the manner of a hospital or church plaza. But he is stuck in the center lobby, a cylinder-shaped space with a lofty ceiling and slate wall of babbling water drowning out most of the footsteps, rings, and other sounds expected in a modern office building.

  Looking again at his watch, Gustavo calculates he has been waiting more than seventy minutes for an answer to his request. He puts down the sports magazine he has been thumbing through and approaches the silver-haired woman with the precisely coiffed beehive hairstyle. Her reception desk is a wavy block of transparent glass. A stoic security guard stands several feet behind her.

  "May I help you?" she asks, raising her eyebrows, feigning surprise.

  "I am hoping to get an estimate on how long I should continue waiting for an answer from Heather Wanda," Gustavo answers.

  "Sir, you did not arrive with an appointment with Ms. Wanda."

  "I admitted that."

  "Well?"

  "Does she know I am here and humbly requesting a minute of her time?" Gustavo asks.

  "A humble request?" the receptionist answers. "No, I will phone her office again and emphasize that your request is a humble one, even though you have refused to provide your name, occupation, or phone number. Is that satisfactory?"

  "And mention that I may or may not possess something that belongs to her."

  "Quite right," the receptionist mocks him, "a possession of some sort. Belonging to her or not. You would be well advised to not attempt a solicitation in this manner."

  "It seems I have agitated you. I regret that. I think I have been patient and polite."

  The receptionist rolls her eyes, turns in her seat to make eye contact with the security guard, then looks downward at the directory in front of her.

  "Please be seated, sir."

  Gustavo hesitates, remaining at the desk, deciding whether to ask if the receptionist has a supervisor. The security guard, with his eyes only on the entrance door, commands Gustavo to back away, dismissing him with a push from the back of his hand against Gustavo's chest. The receptionist, suddenly shining with a smile and beaming eyes, joins the security guard in the entry to welcome a special visitor. The man has a goatee, a belt with a prominent Z-shaped buckle between jeans and a half-black and half-grey t-shirt, and wolf-like facial features that Gustavo recognizes.

  "Mr. Fellini," the receptionist fawns. "It is so good to see you again."

  "Thank you for your kindness, Darla," Zachary responds, holding the door behind him open for Aleksey.

  "Ms. Wanda is eager to see you. Gregory here will escort you and your assistant to her office."

  "We know the way. We will go alone."

  "If it was anybody else but you, I would insist," Darla replies, gesturing him toward the hallway. "Please let us know if there is anything we can do for you."

  Zachary nods his appreciation, glances around the room, and disappears with Aleksey down the hall. Gustavo returns to his seat in the lobby and picks up the same magazine.

  Heather Wanda greets Zachary with a tilted head, sly smirk, and bony hands on her narrow hips. Her tight knit dress is beige and unadorned, but her lipstick is dark burgundy and her long earrings—hoops with hanging silver beads—reach the base of her slender neck. She greets Zachary with kisses on both cheeks, ignores Aleksey, and directs the men away from her desk to the sectional sofa in her spacious office. Zachary and Aleksey sit perpendicular to her, underneath rows of framed photographs taken of herself with famous poker players, sports stars, actresses and actors, and politicians.

  "Heather, we have known each other for many years," Zachary begins. "Through some ups and downs."

  "Indeed," she replies.

  "I would like to think we have earned some level of each other's respect."

  "Yeah, even though you fired me," Heather says, biting her bottom lip.

  "That was long ago," Zachary reminds her.

  "Public relations experts remember everything."

  "Then I trust you recall I paid you well, and fairly, and we parted ways during your personal upheaval."

  "Sure," Heather shrugs, "with no second chances."

  "But with regret, Heather. I rooted for you throughout your recovery. I knew you could conquer addiction. You can conquer anything."

  "Thank you. But it did not go unnoticed that you refused to rehire me."

  Heather moves to the edge of the sectional, closer to the men, but with her legs aimed away from them. She forces a smile.

  "What is behind your urgent request to see me this morning, Zach?" she asks, seemingly distracted, fussing with her ear lobe.

  "Something dead crawled out of its grave."

  "That sounds like a horror movie."

  "That may be an apt description," Zachary replies.

  "So?"

  "A former or current client of yours—the people behind a once promising, but decaying fighting league—may be springing out of dormancy."

  "This involves me how?" Heather asks. "I would think a former client like yourself would especially appreciate the requirement that his public relations specialist maintain strictest confidentiality. Am I wrong?"

  "You are not wrong," Zach
ary answers. "Confidentiality is expected and necessary for business, financial, and personal information. But the umbrella of confidentiality must surely not fit over illegal activity. Or actions that could result in crimes."

  "This reminds me of that Tolkien movie where the creatures are jostling about with riddles in a cave. Is it amusing? Slightly. However, I have a very challenging day and numerous deadlines, Zach."

  "Fine. I am here for just one answer please."

  "Shoot."

  "Cobra De Capello. Are its owners or operators staging a comeback or preparing a media offensive against me, Nathaniel, and the other fighters it had sued?"

  "Frankly, I wish they were staging a comeback," Heather answers. "I need the business. My understanding though is that league is all but dead and buried. In the grave, as you put it."

  "Okay," Zachary responds. "I am grateful for your candor."

  "Promise me the next time you request an unscheduled and urgent visit it is to hash out the terms of retaining my services again," Heather suggests, standing and leading the men out of her office. "Deal?"

  "Fair enough."

  20

  Urinal

  Since the security guard, Gregory, is talking with a group of men on the other side of the lobby, the receptionist huffs and gets out of her chair to point out the restroom facilities to Gustavo herself. Gustavo follows her instructions, moving down the main hallway and into a corridor that borders an interior garden under an expansive skylight. He stands at the first urinal as he hears two men enter the restroom.

  "Do you believe her?" Aleksey asks Zachary, choosing the center urinal between Gustavo and Zachary.

  "No," Zachary answers.

  "She is still bitter."

  "She has always held grudges."

  Gustavo finishes and washes and dries his hands. He reaches for the restroom door, then pauses and turns toward Zachary.

  "Mister Fellini?"

  "Yes?"

  "I think you are about to be ambushed by some reporters in the lobby," Gustavo says. "Paparazzi."

  "Why do you say that?" Aleksey says, zipping up immediately and stepping forward.

  "They are whispering about Mr. Fellini," Gustavo says to Aleksey.

  "They have cameras?" Aleksey asks.

  "Well, I did not see any."

  Aleksey and Zachary surge out of the restroom and into the corridor. Gustavo is behind them, ready to turn back toward the lobby, but Aleksey grabs his shirt and pulls him behind them. Gustavo sprints to keep up, following them into an employee-only room at the end of the corridor and out an emergency door. The three men run to a carport and kneel behind the row of cars. Aleksey looks back to see if they are being followed and signals them to change direction. They cut through the grounds of an apartment complex, then slow their strides and enter an adjacent medical complex. Exiting through an emergency door at the back of the structure, they swiftly cross another parking lot, a busy boulevard, and hide in the dugout of an empty baseball diamond in a park.

  "What are we running from?" Gustavo asks. "Why did you pull me along?"

  "We could not let you return to the lobby," Aleksey says, scanning the sports field instead of looking at Gustavo.

  "Why not? I have enough troubles of my own."

  "Many reasons. First, we have to find out what you know. Second, they would have come charging into that bathroom at any moment and jumped you to find out if you had seen us. Third, you are no longer safe from them and there is nothing we can do about that now."

  "I did not do anything wrong," Gustavo protests, wincing and looking at Zachary for verification that the situation is dire.

  "You are a fan of pro fighting?" Zachary asks Gustavo.

  "No."

  "How did you know my name?"

  "You were pictured inside the magazine I was reading in the lobby."

  "Why were you in the lobby?"

  "Am I free to go?" Gustavo asks. "I was not looking for any problems."

  Zachary huddles with Aleksey and whispers to him that they need to take this young man back to the condominium and question him there, where he will be less fearful and panicked. Aleksey protests, worried about compromising the secrecy of the rental unit. Zachary insists, reminding Aleksey that they can line up another rental after the meeting.

  "What is your name?" Zachary asks.

  "Gustavo."

  "You have to trust me that we are not the bad guys here, Gustavo. We need you to stick with us for a bit longer. I want you to voluntarily come to the condo and meet with us. I pledge to keep you shielded. I am sorry you got wrapped up in this and we will help you find a way out."

  "All right," Gustavo says. "I will stay with you voluntarily."

  21

  Questions

  Zachary takes several measures to calm Gustavo in the condominium. He opens the blinds, encourages the men to remove his shoes, plays classical music on the cable television, and serves protein shakes. Zachary also adopts a languid pace, deliberately, once they are inside the unit. He seats Aleksey on the couch beside Gustavo to avoid a scenario that would feel like a confrontation. Zachary sits across from the young men, tilted backward in a reclining chair.

  "You see, this does not have to be painful," Zachary says.

  "You pledged I would be sheltered with you," Gustavo replies, "and I believe you."

  "Good. Let's chat and see what we can learn to help one another."

  "I would love help."

  "Gustavo, I want to begin by thanking you," Zachary says. "Your warning at the urinal made our escape possible."

  "Who were those guys waiting for you in Heather Wanda's lobby?" Gustavo asks.

  "We will get to them in a minute, okay? First, let's clear the air and introduce ourselves. You learned about me, just this morning, from a magazine, correct?"

  "Yes. There was a sports magazine in the lobby and you were featured in it."

  "So you know what I do. I'm a fighter. An entertainer. A blended profession, one might say. The man beside you is Aleksey, my bodyguard and assistant. We are in Las Vegas tracking down information on an incident that occurred against me in San Francisco. We used to live in Phoenix. But we don't have a settled home at the moment. Can I ask what your profession is?"

  "I am an artist. My full name is Gustavo Vila Nova."

  "You are a recording artist?" Zachary asks. "Will you please freely share what you want so I don't have to request details?"

  "I don't sing," Gustavo answers. "I paint. Sketch. Sculpt. The visual arts. My career began in Oahu. I currently live in Los Angeles."

  "Your paintings are in a gallery here in Vegas?"

  "Actually, yes. I have a couple of pieces for sale in art galleries in some of the premier shopping centers along the Vegas strip. But I am not famous or rich."

  "Yet."

  "Right," Gustavo grins. "Not quite yet."

  "You have a client in the office complex we were at this morning?" Zachary asks.

  "No. I was not there for any reason related to my own artwork."

  Zachary lets the silence linger. He does not speak or gesture as he waits for Gustavo to elaborate.

  "Can we come back to that?" Gustavo asks.

  "To what?"

  "My reason for being there."

  "Yes, but I need to know."

  "I am trying to decide how much I am going to tell you," Gustavo says.

  "In the baseball dugout, you made a comment indicating you are carrying heavy burdens," Zachary says. "You said something to the effect that you have enough troubles of your own at the moment."

  "I do."

  "We can circle the drain, so to speak, and give you more time before talking about your reason for being there. Please do not mislead me or try to deceive me, Gustavo."

  "I am not a liar," Gustavo responds.

  "Who were you there to see?" Zachary asks.

  "The same person as you. Heather Wanda."

  "Did you meet with her before Aleksey and I arrived?"


  "No. I did not have an appointment. I was waiting for her to decide whether she was going to grant me a minute or two of her time."

  "You gave the receptionist, Darla, your real name?" Zachary asks.

  "No," Gustavo answers. "I did not give her any name. I did not feel comfortable giving the receptionist any personal information."

  "Interesting. You were in the lobby, soliciting a private meeting with Heather without an appointment, and happened to be there when we arrived."

  "That is the truth."

  "Please tell me what you witnessed in the lobby," Zachary says. "Include anything you believe could be helpful."

  "After the two of you arrived and went to your meeting, the security guard was on his phone. I did not think much about it, but he was pacing in the entryway, back and forth. I assumed it was a personal call, like he was speaking so that the receptionist and I could not hear him. A minute later the two men enter and shake his hand."

  "What did they look like?" Aleksey interjects.

  "Both were nondescript. Middle aged men, in the forty to fifty years of age range, one balding and the other with greying hair. Anglo facial features. Slacks and sports coats. They made little impression though. They remind me of some of the photographers I have seen at gallery openings and other special events. The type of guys who work in the background and don't call attention to themselves. Does that make sense?"

  "Yes," Zachary answers. "You assumed they were reporters. You heard them mention my name. Did you hear anything else?"

  "Nothing I can quote," Gustavo answers. "I saw them shake hands with the security guard, like I said, then it was back and forth. An example would be hearing parts of these questions and answers: You are certain it is Zachary Fellini? It is. How long has he been here? He just got here. How many guys are with him. One."

  "You already mentioned they did not have cameras. Did you see any guns?"

  "No."

  "Why did you decide to warn me in the john that I was about to be ambushed?" Zachary asks.

  "I had a distaste for how you were greeted so warmly in the lobby, then they go behind your back to alert paparazzi to get side money. It reeked of unfairness and fakery. I almost did not say anything, guessing you might be used to it in public places. Then I blurted out the warning to you. And here we are."