by H. M. Ward
The Arrangement
Vol. 12
H.M. Ward
www.SexyAwesomeBooks.com
Laree Bailey Press
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by H.M. Ward
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.
Laree Bailey Press
First Edition: Dec 2013
TABLE OF CONTENTS
COPYRIGHT
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
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The Arrangement
Vol. 12
CHAPTER 1
This can’t be happening. The phrase repeats over and over again in my mind as my skin prickles with dread. There’s so much blood on the carpet, seeping out from under the sheet. The crushed black bead did her no good.
The cop doesn’t see me yet. Any second he’ll turn around and I have no idea what I’ll say. The floor isn’t closed off. I don’t know why and I don’t care. Sean is going to kill me for coming back up here, but I can’t leave Mel like this. My heart is stuck in my throat, forming a giant knot that won’t go away no matter how hard I swallow.
A noise startles me out of my trance and I glance at the purse, clutched tightly in my hands. The cop turns and sees me. Sean’s voice is spilling from within the room and I only take notice when it stops. He knows I’m here. The ring tone clangs again before I realize what it means. My shoulders stiffen and I dig through my bag, trying to find the phone as fast as possible.
“You shouldn’t be up here, miss.” The cop says, and starts to walk toward me.
My smile is weak, timid almost. “I’m sorry, I—” I stop talking and look at the picture on my screen. Ice drips down my spine and pools in my stomach. Mel’s murderer stole her phone and is calling me. The crass stripper ring tone blares again and I swipe the button to accept the call. “Hello?”
The cop walks toward me as I stand still, shivering. I expect to hear a male’s voice, someone sick and twisted. He’s going to say something horrible, but what I hear shocks me even more.
“Avery? Are you listening to me? Get the fuck out of there! Now!” It’s Mel. My hands start shaking and I suck in a ragged breath.
“Mel—?” My voice catches in the back of my throat as my skin gets covered in a new wave of gooseflesh.
“Miss, this floor is closed.” The cop talks at the same time as Mel. The man is wearing his uniform, and he has that seriously displeased look policemen wear when they’ve seen too much. My God, what happened in that room while Sean and I were downstairs?
“Avery. Leave. Now.” Her words come out staccato, emphasizing each one so that it sinks in.
I’m still in shock, with a haze hanging over me, where I can barely think. “Where are you?”
Mel doesn’t tell me. “You’re not listening. Something happened and I did what I had to do. Get the hell out of there. I wouldn’t have even called, but the thing is, I think she was after you, not me. Be safe. Call me if you need help.” The line goes dead.
Swallowing hard, I place my phone in my purse and nod at no one. The cop thinks I’m nodding at him and lifts his hand toward the elevator banks. At that moment, Sean peeks out from the doorway. I turn back and our eyes lock, but neither of us speaks. He doesn’t want me involved in this, but I don’t know if it can be avoided.
“Mr. Ferro,” says a deep voice from within the room, “we’re not done here.”
Sean glances back at the man and then to me. “One moment.” Sean walks down the hallway toward me with swift, determined, strides. He stops a step from me, like we’re acquaintances and hands me a card. “I’ll be a little bit. Meet me here. I have to go out to Long Island to take care of something, after this gets settled.” His eyes are liquid blue and filled with worry. He blinks it away and his gaze once again turns to steel.
A large detective wearing a poorly fitting blue suit steps into the hallway. “Mr. Ferro, we’re not done.” The man has jowls that are cartoonish. He’s way past his prime, with a belly that hangs over his belt, and bags under his eyes. There’s a large nose in the center of his face that reminds me of Gabe. The man looks up at me and then glances at Sean. “Who’s this?”
Sean speaks before I have a chance to answer. “A friend. She wasn’t up here when this happened.”
The uniformed cop looks at me with added interest. The detective asks, “Then, where were you?”
I feel nervous with all their eyes on me and spit out the truth. “In the dining room, downstairs.”
The detective walks toward me. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” I tell him and he asks if I’ve been up here tonight. I omit the fact that I was up here with Mel earlier and talk about dinner. “What are you doing here, now?”
“I came to see Mr. Ferro.” It’s the truth and I look too innocent or naïve to them. They both disregard me after a few more questions, but then he asks for the paper Sean handed me. “Let me see it and you can go.”
I don’t want to show him, but I do. Holding the business card between two fingers, I lift it up so he can read it. The man grunts and shakes his head. “A strip club? He handed you a card for a strip club?”
I shrug and smile bashfully, like Sean and I are into kinky things. The cop inhales suddenly, and it’s way too loud. My outfit screams proper, refined, and totally average, but the card throws him off. The cop asks, “Why’d he give it to you?”
I smile, and look at the carpet and say the first lie I can conjure. “I was looking for a place to have a bachelorette party. He said he knew this place.”
The cop glances at my ring, and then at Sean who has a stoic expression and doesn’t speak. Sean’s hands are in his pockets, as if he’s bored. The two police officers look at one another, as if they know they’re missing something, but neither is sure what. It seems like it lines up, thank God. The last thing I need is for them to think I’m lying.
Sean finally lets out an irritated sound and says, “Gentlemen, can we please figure out who killed the woman in my room so I can get on with business?”
Holy fuck, his voice is cold. Sean makes the woman’s death sound like an inconvenience on the same level as missing a train. The words send a shiver down my spine. Sean tips his head toward me—bidding me good night—turns on his heel, and heads back to the room. I watch him disappear behind the door, and pass that lifeless body. He doesn’t flinch, or look down at her. There’s no indication that he’s upset in any way, which is really disturbing. The thing is, I know this is the way he acts when he has his guard up. Sean becomes a rock, this stoic man completely devoid of emotion. It’s damning because he looks like a freaking sociopath.
At that moment, I wonder what’s really going through his mind, and if he’s angry, worried, or what. That woman is dead. Someone killed her and I don’t think Sean knows any
more about it than I do.
My mouth feels like it has weights hanging from the corners, making me frown. Staring at her dead hand, I ask, “Who is she?” My voice warbles slightly as my hand lifts to my heart.
I gawk at the sheet, thinking everything and nothing. It’s one of those weird moments where so many thoughts and fears are rushing through my mind that I can’t see any of them. They’re a squall of storms, devastating and powerful, reminding me that life is fleeting, as if I didn’t already know.
I can’t help it, I start shaking. My reaction is involuntary, and I have no idea how Sean can compartmentalize so well that he could step over her without showing any concern. I’m all emotion, and the turmoil within me is gaining speed, ripping away the small fraction of control that remains. My stomach twists and my throat constricts as the contents of my stomach threaten to come up. I cover my mouth and look away as sweat beads across my forehead.
The detective swears, before saying, “Get her out of here before she’s sick.” The cop nods and takes my elbow, and turns me toward the elevators as his boss walks back toward Sean. There are more people in the room. I hear their voices, but never saw their faces.
The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. The cop walks me inside and tells me to hold the rail, before pressing the button for the lobby. His dark gaze lifts and meets my pale, sweaty face. He shoots me a look of pity and smiles. “Don’t worry, miss. It’s not someone you would know. The woman was a prostitute. Go down to the bar and ask for a lemon. Suck on it and the queasy feeling will settle.”
All I can do is nod. The doors slip shut and I’m alone.
CHAPTER 2
Time passes strangely in the next few moments. It feels like I’m in my body and watching from above at the same time. My steps from the elevator feel heavy and light. Contradictions flood me and I have no idea why. The cop’s words ring in my ear, his raspy, deep voice continues like a never ending echo. “The woman was a prostitute.”
I hear the sound of my heels clicking on the marble floor and continue quickly toward the bar. I don’t have any alcohol wipes in my purse and my throat is too tight. Add to that the torrent in my stomach and if I don’t get a lemon in the next two seconds, I’m going to lose it.
The people around me register as noise. I don’t know anyone, I don’t see anyone. I’m engulfed in my own personal hell that hovers around me like a cloud. As I step into the bar, a hand lands on the crook of my arm and yanks.
My reaction is instant. I whirl around with my fist already balled, throwing all my weight into the swing with my arm. The man catches my fist in his palm and holds it for a second.
“Avery, calm down. Where the hell did you go? I need to get you out of here.” It’s Gabe. I can’t calm down enough to let out a sigh of relief. My entire body is strung tight and ready to pop.
I nod at him and he lowers my arm to my side. “Come on. Back to Black’s before this mess gets bigger.”
I snap out of my stupor and shake my head. “No, I need to go here.” I hold up Sean’s card and Gabe plucks it from my fingers.
People move about us, murmuring about the dead woman in the Ferro suite. I hear their voices, and can’t block them out. “The man is a monster. They should just shoot him,” one woman says sternly as she walks by in a hurry.
A man passing in the other direction is grinning deviously, “That’s one way to get out of paying, huh? I always heard Ferro was a cheap bastard.”
The comments barrage me, and don’t stop. Each wave of insults is worse than the last. They hate him—everyone thinks he did it and Sean wasn’t even in the room.
My lips press together in a twitchy way as I regain my composure enough to act. I spin on my heel to grab the asshole’s shoulder and tell him off, but Gabe sees the movement and stops me before I have the chance.
His hands land on my waist and he yanks me away. I want to turn and claw his face off. I’m fuming. It feels like someone ripped me open from sternum to navel, and I can’t tell if I want to fight back or lay down and cry. “Stop it, Miss Stanz. Do not draw more attention to yourself.” Gabe hisses in my ear. “I’ll take you to this place, if this is where you want to go, but we leave now. No comments. You don’t know a damn thing, and if you tackle someone, I swear to God that I’ll taser your ass and throw you in the trunk. Got it?” The old guy is puffed up like he means business.
Attacking assholes won’t help Sean, so I nod. I didn’t expect Gabe to comply so easily, but I’m not about to ask questions. He releases me, I follow him out a side door, and we shove past a mob of people trying to get inside. Reporters look at us and some flashes go off, but then they realize that we’re nobodies and drop their cameras to their sides. The chatter begins again and I hear more of the same. They’re condemning Sean and growing into a frenzy. I hear someone say that Amanda’s death was unnecessary and now this.
I turn and look at the guy. We make eye contact, but Gabe holds onto my arm and pulls me away. I don’t speak, but I wonder—what kind of life would Sean have had if Amanda hadn’t killed herself and taken his only child? His personal hell is expanding, and this event will make it so much worse.
After Gabe deposits me in the back seat, he jumps in the limo, and we’re off. We make it through the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel and back onto Long Island quickly. I stare out the window, watching lights blur by, lost in thought.
Gabe finally speaks up, “Where were you?”
Glancing up at the mirror, I look into his old eyes. “Not in the room, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t do this and neither did Sean. We were in the restaurant.”
He nods and grips the steering wheel tighter. “I noticed the rock on your finger. People saw you two?”
“Yeah, they saw us.” My voice is soft and my shoulders finally relax. I feel like a deflating balloon that was smacked too many times.
“Good, then this shouldn’t lead back to Black.”
I glance up at him and know—call it a gut instinct—that he’s wrong. This will lead back to Miss Black, and possibly everyone else. My lips part as my gaze narrows. The words don’t come out of my mouth, but he watches me. The old guy sees everything and I’m still an open book, unable to hide the thoughts rushing through my mind. The worry line between his eyebrows deepens. “Spit it out, kid. You’re thinking something, and if it affects all of us, you have to spit it out.”
I only say two words, but he knows what I mean. “The bracelet.”
CHAPTER 3
Gabe swallows so hard that I can hear it from the back seat. The man actually turns his head to look at me. “She crushed the black stone?” After our eyes lock, both wide with worry, I nod once. “Holy fuck.”
Gabe whips his head back around and accelerates, bobbing and weaving through traffic like his ass is on fire. He grumbles things to himself, but he doesn’t turn back toward Black’s. Instead, he keeps his word and drives me to the strip club on Long Island where I’m supposed to meet Sean later.
I slump back into the seat and think of the ramifications of the broken bead and why Gabe didn’t know it was crushed. When I crushed the stone, he was there, smashing through the door and then promptly pummeling Henry Thomas into the floor. My heart starts to race again. I never thought of having a faulty transmitter in my bracelet. Is that what happened to Mel? My God. I can’t imagine what would have happened if I crushed the stone and Gabe didn’t show up the night Henry went nuts. The thought sends a shiver down my spine and for once I keep my face expressionless as my mind drifts through the consequences.
If Gabe didn’t show up and I was on my own, what would I do? The thought never occurred to me. I had this sense of security, that if anything went screwy all I had to do was crush that stone and help would arrive. It never felt like I was on my own, left to my own devices to defend myself, but it seems like that’s exactly what happened to Mel.
What would Mel do if help didn’t come? She held her own on the streets long before I ever met her. The attitude she pr
ojects says don’t screw with me, so I can’t imagine who would—or why. It makes no sense. When Sean and I left, Mel was ordering a buffet from the room service menu. How’d she go from pigging out to fleeing, leaving behind a dead body on the floor?
I see the lifeless curled fingers poking out from under the sheet in my mind. I remember the massive amount of blood that soaked into the carpet around her. What happened? Better yet, who was she? Why was she there and who killed her?
‘Fuck’ is the right expression. We’re all screwed if this gets traced back to Black. I glance up at Gabe and try to keep my thoughts off my face. “Why didn’t her transmitter work?”
Gabe’s jaw is locked tight as he shifts his lower jaw from side to side. He’s livid, but I’m not certain of the reason. It could be fear of exposure or something worse. God, what could be worse? He lets out a huff of air and inhales again before looking in the mirror at me. “No clue.” That’s all he says before locking his jaw again.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as he looks away. It’s an ominous feeling and I know he’s lying to me. There’s more going on than I’m aware of, a lot more.
We exit the expressway and drive down some side streets until we stop in front of a shack. Okay, calling the strip club a shack is kind. It’s just scary looking, complete with a neglected façade and a decaying parking lot that’s turning to dust.
Gabe’s expression changes into a look of concern. “You sure this is where Mr. Ferro wanted you to go?”
I nod, gaping at the building with the same dumbfounded expression. “Yes.”
“It looks like the place is closed.”
Yeah, it does. There are only a few cars in the parking lot and the sign on the door is flipped to CLOSED. What the hell is Sean thinking? There’s only one way to find out. I move before Gabe snaps out of it, and open my door. My heels hit the gravel and I nearly twist my ankle, but I recover and straighten.
