After fitting both the shoes to my feet, I stepped in front of the mirror. As I imagined, they looked marvelous. I quickly turned away, lifting my foot in the process. A quick glance over my shoulder allowed me to catch a flash of the red bottom as I walked away.
“The Copte flats would look adorable with those jeans,” she said.
“I’m not familiar with them.”
“Let me grab a pair,” she said.
With reluctance, I put the pumps in the box and pushed it to the end of the bench. They were classic Louboutin and exquisite in all respects, but they were impractical.
She returned in a flash with the cutest pair of sandals I’d ever seen. A quick stroll through the store and I was in love, but the seven-hundred-dollar price tag was, once again, impractical.
When I returned where she and Tito were talking, she greeted me with a smile. “What did you think?”
“They’re really comfortable, I just don’t need a pair of sandals right—”
“We’ll take them both—” Tito said.
She shifted her eyes from me to Tito. “The Pigalle, and the—”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Very well then.” She glanced at each of us. “Would either of you like a chilled bottle of Perrier?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Yes. Thank you,” Tito replied.
She disappeared into the back of the store. I couldn’t believe my dream of one day owning a pair of red-bottoms was actually going to come true.
I looked at Tito. “Are you sure you can afford this?”
“Like I said a minute ago,” he replied. “Anything you want on this trip, you’ll get. Nothing’s more important to me than seeing you happy.”
I kissed him and then pulled away. “Burn this image into your brain,” I said. “because what you’re seeing right now defines happiness.”
We left the store and went into Gucci, which was right across the hallway. After perusing the handbags, we wandered to Prada. Then, Valentino.
Going from shop to shop, I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. At first, I reluctantly looked at a few things. Then, after Tito bought everything I looked at, I realized I had to be vocal about what it was that I was actually interested in.
Four hours later, we wandered toward our hotel with our arms weighted down with bags. As we passed Harry Winton’s jewelry shop, Tito gestured toward a lighted display of diamond rings with his eyes.
“One of these days we’ll have to go in there.”
My heart raced at the thought. “Not now, but I’d love to peek in there one day.”
He paused. “Let’s go.”
I lifted my right arm. Three bags dangled from the ditch of my elbow. “Not now. Let’s put this stuff in the room.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said. “Let me know. It doesn’t hurt to look.”
After putting everything in the room, we returned to the casino. Unlike the casino I’d been in while in Reno, Nevada, this one was clean and smelled wonderful. My feet didn’t stick to the floor, the slot machines weren’t littered with ashtrays, and there were options for as far as the eye could see in any direction.
“This is overwhelming,” I said. “Too many options.”
“Have you ever shot craps?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “I’m scared to. Everyone’s always screaming.”
He tilted his head toward the center of the casino. “There’s a table over there that’s empty. It’s easy.”
“Explain it to me.”
“They give you the dice. You roll two of them. If you roll a seven or eleven, you win. Roll a two, three, or twelve, and you lose. If you roll any other number, it becomes your point. If you roll a point, you continue to roll until you roll your point, or a seven. From the time you roll your point, you can place bets on the table of any possible number coming up, all of which pay the odds of that number being rolled.”
I thought for a moment. “Well, there’s six ways to roll a seven, and one way to roll a two or twelve. Two ways to roll a three. Two ways to roll an eleven. That makes sense.”
“You’re good with numbers,” he said with a smile.
“Much better with numbers than I am with throwing razors.”
“Want to try?”
“Sure.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was up five hundred dollars, and the table was filled with people betting on my newcomer’s luck. One of them was an elderly man named Mel. He smelled like Old Spice and his hands shook terribly, which seemed to make him feel ashamed.
“C’mon,” Mel said, nudging away a potential player with his wiry shoulder. “Give the lady some room.”
He was dressed in a pair of brown polyester slacks from yesteryear, an eye-watering yellow and red geometric pattern button-down short sleeved shirt, and a pair of wingtip shoes, all of which he assured us were good luck charms.
“Five hundred dollar hard ten,” he said, tossing five one-hundred-dollar chips in the center of the table.
“Five hundred dollar hard ten,” the man on the other side of the table said, confirming the bet.
I counted my chips, and then tossed out two fifty-dollar chips. “A hundred bucks, same bet.”
“A hundred for the lady. Hard ten.”
Rolling a six and four combination was called an easy way, because there were two ways to do it. A hard ten was a five and five. It was described as hard because there was only one way to do it, making it harder than the other way.
With a point of eight, I chose two dice, and rolled them.
“Six,” the man declared.
After the bets were paid, he pushed the dice in my direction once again. I leaned over the table and blew on them before I tossed them.
They hit the edge, bounced, and came to a stop, five and five facing up.
“Yay,” I shouted. “Look, Mel. A hard ten.”
The man tapped the stick in front of me. “Seven hundred.”
The man who paid the bets slid me seven hundred dollars in chips.
He tapped the stick in front of Mel. “Thirty-five hundred.”
“Holy cow,” I said. “You’re doing good.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “We’re doing good.”
“We sure are.”
He leaned away from the table and looked at Tito. “It’s going to be a long night, Teebow.”
Tito didn’t bother correcting him. He just smiled. “That’s what we came for.”
We stayed at the table for two hours, gambling like we were made of money. Mel made up for his week’s losses and thanked us when we left, giving me a one-hundred-dollar tip for my efforts.
Then, we ate as if calories didn’t exist.
Afterward, we danced in the nightclub like tomorrow would never come. The next morning, we had breakfast in bed, then went to see the sights of the strip. In all the excitement, seeing the sights, shopping, gambling, and eating, we never once took time to make love.
Despite that fact, I had the time of my life.
Depressed that we had to leave, but excited to continue our adventure together, I boarded the plane convinced that Tito was the answer to my dreams. It had nothing to do with money or lavish gifts, and everything to do with how being in his presence made me feel.
I went to work the next day wearing my new Louboutin sandals. Upon seeing me walk into the store, Raymond immediately recognized them.
He covered his mouth with his hands. His eyes darted to the shoes. He lowered his hands. “Tell me those Copte Passementeries are real.”
“If they’re not, I think Tito paid too much.”
He looked up, and then stole another quick glance of the pale-yellow flats. “He bought those for you?”
“Believe me,” I said with a sigh. “This wasn’t all he bought.”
He flipped his hair away from his eyes. “No?”
“Not at all. We went on a two-day get anything you want shopping spree in Las Vegas.”
“Oh. My God.” He g
asped. “I love that man.”
I smiled. “That makes two of us.”
236
Tito
So far, our survey of the gold dealer’s shop had produced nothing. Behind a locked steel door at the rear of the facility was the last place to look.
Using nothing more than the illumination from the distant streetlights that filtered through the storefront windows, Ally fidgeted with the lock for roughly ten seconds.
She glanced over her shoulder, turned the handle and pushed the door open. “Cross your fingers.”
Frozen in place, Baker, Cash and I gawked at the sight.
Prepared for their worldwide debut—which was in two days—the coins sat in the dimly lit room, spread out amongst six folding tables. As they were situated before us, neither their rarity nor denomination was known. The sheer quantity, however, was staggering to say the least.
Baker exhaled. “Holy—”
“Shit,” I said, finishing his thought.
Baker glanced in Ally’s direction. “Get the car ready. We’ll get everything to the back door. I’ll give the signal when we’re done.”
Ally had already turned away. “One step ahead of you, Boss.”
“We good, Goose?” Baker said into his Bluetooth device.
“This town’s dead,” Goose responded, seeming bored with his rooftop position as the night’s sentry.
As Cash rushed toward the display of coins, I quickly surveyed the room. Flat steel boxes were neatly positioned along the wall opposite the coins. Together, Baker and I sauntered in that direction. Upon reaching them, Baker leaned over and opened one.
His eyes went wide. “Jackpot.”
“What?” I asked.
He gestured toward the hidden contents. “Look at this.”
I peered over his shoulder and into the box. A blue felt display housed more than two dozen diamond rings. Each were breathtaking in their own regard.
Baker glanced at his watch. He touched his earpiece with his index finger. “I want to be gone at zero-three-seventeen. We’re going to need all the help we can get. Goose, abandon your post and get in here.”
We used Bluetooth to communicate amongst ourselves when we worked together. Using our real names wasn’t a worry, as the transmissions weren’t able to be heard by anyone who wasn’t linked to the Bluetooth devices.
Communicating off-site—typically with Reno—was different. Bluetooth wouldn’t travel the distance needed. In lieu of using phones, a two-way radio was chosen. As the radio transmissions could potentially be heard by others, codewords and fictitious names were used.
“Roger that,” Goose responded.
Describing Baker as superstitious would be like describing the Grand Canyon as an eroded riverbed. His demand that we be gone at 3:17 was made for superstitious reasons, I was sure. Granted, we needed to be gone as soon as possible, but four minutes left us little time to get everything loaded—especially with Reno being poised and ready for a diversion at the other end of the city.
“Goose and I will take the jewelry,” I said. “You and Cash get the coins.”
Working as a well-oiled machine, Goose and I emptied the steel boxes of their jewelry, consolidating everything into one large metal container. The coins—each fitted in a clear plastic case—were swept off the table and into the empty jewelry boxes by Baker and Cash.
In just over three minutes, everything was stacked inside the exit. Cash and I went back to the room for one last look.
He gestured toward a door at the rear corner of the room. “What’s in there?”
I checked the time. We had thirty seconds to go. “Fuck, I don’t know.”
He tried the handle. As expected, it was locked.
“Fucker’s locked.” He rubbed his hands together feverishly. “You know whatever’s in there has got to be good.”
“Quit fucking around,” Baker bellowed into the room. “Let’s go. We’ve got everything.”
Cash jiggled the door handle. “What’s in here?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Baker responded. “It’s time to go.”
“Town’s fucking dead,” Cash argued. “You heard it from Goose. All these retired fuckers are asleep. Cops included. C’mon Bake. The man’s got this fucker locked. A locked room inside a locked room?” He nodded toward the door. “Get Ally in here.”
Baker checked his watch. He forced a sigh and reached for his earpiece. “We’ve got another lock, Ally.”
“On my way,” she responded.
In seconds, Ally was inside the room with her lock picking devices. After choosing the proper pick, she inserted it into the lock.
With our greedy eyes fixed on the door, Baker, Cash, Goose, and I waited with bated breath to see what was inside.
The mechanism clicked. With the lock pick still in the lock, Ally pushed the door open and peered inside the dimly lit room.
“Lighted jewelry cases,” She said. “They’re full.”
Baker took a step toward the room. “Tito, stay with me. Everyone else, get the car loaded.”
“Let me take a look,” Cash said, outwardly excited to see what was inside the room.
“Get the fucking car loaded,” Baker snarled. “Tito and I will get this.”
The building’s interior, less the open storefront, was configured in an “L” shape. With the two rooms that we were in at the lower leg of the “L”, the establishment’s exit door wasn’t visible without walking out of the rear room and around the corner. Goose and Ally had already disappeared in that direction.
Cash hesitated, and then turned away in a huff. Before he took one step, a voice from the other room caused the hair on my neck stand on end. It wasn’t the lack of familiarity in the voice so much that startled me.
It was what he said.
“Take one more step,” the voice said in a firm drawl. “And I’ll blow a hole in you big enough to drive a truck through.”
“You, too, Missy,” a second voice said. “Don’t fucking move.”
Hidden from view, I pinned myself against the back room’s interior wall. The veins on my neck pulsed with each beat of my overactive heart. I lowered myself to my hands and knees and crawled to the door.
Nervously, I peered around the corner.
A police officer that was big enough to challenge Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson to a fist fight stood with his pistol aimed at Goose’s chest. His hands were rock-steady. His threatening glare bore the intensity of a man who was committed to his cause. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in such a situation, that much was clear.
Beside him, another officer stood. Not near as sure of himself as his partner, he pointed a shaking assault rifle at Ally.
I quickly surveyed the situation.
The first officer was on the left side of the door. He was ten feet away from Goose. To the right of the door, the second officer was fifteen feet in front of Ally with his rifle pointed at her chest. Neither of the officer’s uniforms bore the square-shaped outline of a bulletproof vest.
My heart raced at a breakneck pace as I attempted to assemble a plan of escape.
The exit door was open. Our escape vehicle sat outside the door, running. The rumble from the high-performance exhaust was a welcome sound. Without it I feared the officers would be able to hear my heart pounding.
The first officer barked out his command. “Get on the floor, asshole! I’m not going to tell you again.”
There was only one option. I withdrew into the room and pulled my weapon, a HK USP .45 caliber pistol. Still on my hands and knees, I looked in Baker’s direction.
I signaled for him to cover the man with the rifle. He quickly got in position. I mouthed the words “on three.”
Baker nodded.
Cash shook his head adamantly and then pointed to his chest. “Move out of the way,” he whispered, nudging his way against the doorframe. “You count, we’ll shoot.”
There was only room for two men in the doorway. Cash was undoubtedly a better s
hot than I was, therefore, I gave no opposition to his demand. I quickly moved to the side, allowing him to step into place.
Baker and Cash simultaneously gave a nod.
Incapable of seeing into the other room, I pressed my finger to the side of my Bluetooth device. “On three,” I whispered into the mouthpiece, knowing Goose and Ally could also hear my faint voice. “One…Two…”
I drew a breath and held it. The thought of proceeding made me feel ill, but I had no choice. When I looked last, Goose’s right hand was twitching—a signal that he was seconds from attempting to draw his weapon.
I couldn’t let Goose take that chance. “Three.”
Gunfire shattered the silence. One after another, the deafening blasts seemed to come from everywhere. After three dozen shots were fired, the room fell eerily silent.
The ringing in my ears was brain-numbing.
I stepped into the opening and peered into the other room. The two bullet-riddled officers stumbled to maintain their footing.
The first officer took several awkward steps away from Goose. He came to a stop with his back propped against the wall, just beside the exit door. His glassy eyes were slowly coming to terms with what had happened.
Still clutching the gun in his right hand, his arm dangled loosely at his side. He locked eyes with me and sucked a choppy breath. The crisp navy-colored uniform he wore now glistened dark crimson with blood.
He was a few heartbeats away from death, and it appeared that he knew it.
The second officer crumbled into a distorted pile at Goose’s feet. His rifle clanked across the floor and came to a rest beside Ally.
The air was thick with the coppery smell of death. Through the chaos, cordite, and sheer confusion, it was impossible to tell if the officers had fired their weapons.
“Is anyone hit!?” I shouted.
I realized as I spoke that my ears were ringing so loudly that I could barely hear my own voice.
Gun in hand, Cash boldly sauntered toward the first officer. “I’m good.”
The sound of his voice was muffled and dull.
“Same,” Ally responded, her voice equally as indiscernible.
“I’m good,” Goose said.
Devil's Disciples MC Series- The Complete Boxed Set Page 125