“Nice.”
“We held Juan’s campaign party here last month and matched his donations. Since he’s the new city manager, I would say he’s very grateful.”
“Politicians.” Jonny curled his lip. “They’re all the same.”
“True, but I know what the people want, and I also know whose word means something in this town.”
“Publicity is good. The more people who know what we’re doing, the better. That way if things get shady, they can’t hide.”
“Tonight, I’ve invited Jared Klein from the Delano to meet you here. They’re opening another club in Vegas, so he wants to hear your opinion of Simon Davis.”
“You got a lot together in a short time.”
“I believe in this, Jonny.” Carlos clapped his shoulder. “I believe in you.” Carlos stepped to the bar to refill their glasses. “To making things happen.” Carlos raised his glass, and they downed the shot. “Graciela is downstairs. Should I call her?”
“Not this trip.”
“What?”
In the past, he and Carlos would hang with three or maybe four obliging females and not go home until the sun rose.
“I’m with someone.”
Carlos’s eyes widened. “You’ve never brought a woman to Miami. You said there were too many . . .”
“All that’s changed.”
“All right, you bring your lady tonight, and we’ll celebrate this new beginning.”
Carlos walked him to the door and lowered his voice. “Stay safe, amigo.” Carlos embraced him, and he couldn’t help hearing a cryptic message in his simple words. Carlos’s warning gnawed at him all the way back to his condo.
Chapter 25
Cheryl ran her hand over the soft sheets and the empty spot alongside her. She shared Jonny’s bed for only a few nights, but she’d become addicted to his heat pressed up against her and his spicy, musky scent.
Her sleepy mind reviewed the last twenty-four hours. The late-night flight to Miami, and car service to Jonny’s beachfront condo in South Beach. A million stars in the night sky, and the calming sound of the waves crashing in the distance.
Jonny played it off, but the tension in his actions was real and tangible. He’d come to bed and tossed and turned, finally leaving to sit on the balcony. After all he’d done for her, she wanted to help him in any way possible. The black eyes and bruises on him and Eddie spoke volumes, and you didn’t have to be street savvy to know Frank was coming down hard.
Then there was the guy Max brought to the penthouse two days ago. Jonny said he was an old friend, which was total bullshit. Their conversation sounded anything but friendly, and clearly, this trip was about way more than sun and fun on the beach.
She stretched and enjoyed the cool air wafting over her from the ceiling fan. Slivers of light seeped through the white wooden shutters shielding the windows. Sleek furniture in grays and whites decorated the room, similar to his Manhattan penthouse, but much lighter, more beachy. The digital clock on the bedside table read one in the afternoon, and she realized this was the first sound sleep she’d had in forever.
He’d texted her saying he’d be back in an hour, so she stood and opened the shutters. The dazzling sunshine made her squint. She unlatched the sliding door and stepped onto the balcony that wrapped around the corner condo. Leaning against the railing, she soaked in the warm sun and gentle breeze. The spectacular sight of the waves breaking on the beach across the street made her fantasize about her and Jonny laying on the beach all day, far away from the worries and pressures of New York. The buzzing of her phone broke the spell, then her back stiffened at the number on the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Good afternoon.” Frank’s rough, edgy, voice rasped through the phone.
Her heart quickened, but she stayed silent.
“I understand you and Jonny are in Miami.” There was a slight pause. “South Beach to be exact.”
She dashed inside, snapped the shutters closed, then peered through one of the slats, half expecting him to be standing on the street below. When she realized how ridiculous her reaction was, she willed herself to calm down and focus.
“Yes,” she admitted, since he knew as much about her whereabouts as she did. Maybe more.
“Catch some sun. Relax a little.”
This inane conversation unnerved her more than if he’d come right out and threatened her.
“What do you want”
“You’re a tough bitch, huh?” He cleared his throat. “I like that in a woman. Lets me know you can get the job done.”
“I did what you wanted with the safe.” She struggled to keep her edge. The last thing you showed a guy like Frank was fear.
“Shut up and listen.” His voice iced over. “Unless you want to end up in jail for murder.”
“I’m done letting you blackmail me.” She’d already decided to go to the cops when they returned to New York. She’d had enough lying.
“Really?” Frank drawled. “Even if it means keeping that brother of yours alive?”
Now, she was afraid. Now, he had her full attention.
“Leave my family out of this.” Her threat sounded weak even to her ears.
“Family?” He spit out an evil laugh. “A mother who spreads her legs for a hit of meth and a brother who can’t stay out of jail. Sounds more like the freak show at a circus.”
Her insides crumbled at the truth. He’d finally found her weak link. Family.
“I’m listening.” Her hand tightened on the phone.
“In about twenty minutes a package is going to be dropped off for you. You’re going to take that package and hide it from Jonny, then plant it on him when I tell you to.”
“What’s in the—”
“Enough coke to get him locked up. Florida jails aren’t very safe, and I have some friends who owe me— No sense in getting into all the gory details.”
“But . . .”
“I’ve dropped hints, but he’s not getting it.”
She assumed his hints included using Jonny and Eddie’s face as a punching bag.
“Unfortunately, Jonny has too much heart. Punk couldn’t even kill his deadbeat father. I had to step up and do the job.”
Wow, the psycho was proud of killing someone in cold blood.
“So now it’s up to you, and if you don’t do what I say, your brother’s dead.”
Her head spun, and she slumped to the bed. “Please . . .”
“The Russian your brother jacks’ cars for is a crazy motherfucker.” Frank clucked his tongue. “And all kinds of accidents can happen in a garage.”
Dylan told her he was working in a body shop. Fixing cars, not stealing them.
“But why me?” She was desperate to reason with him. “I’m sure you have people here in Miami . . .”
“But you have so much more to lose, which makes you very useful.”
“How do I know you still won’t hurt Dylan even if I do this?” She couldn’t let herself use the word kill.
“You don’t. But what’s the alternative?”
She gasped for air and braced herself against the soft mattress.
“And don’t go telling Jonny about this phone call, because if anything goes wrong, that brother you care so much about is done.”
She startled when the door chimed sending a new swarm of locusts to her stomach. She peered through the peephole and saw a nondescript man in his early forties.
“I have a package for Cheryl Benson,” he said through the door.
She exhaled and undid the lock. The man handed her a manila envelope, then turned toward the elevators without another word.
She closed and locked the door, then pulled at the adhesive closure. Inside the envelope was a clear pl
astic bag filled with fine white powder. She’d never indulged, but she knew from her time with Nicky that this was a substantial amount of cocaine with a high price tag and a long arrest time.
She dropped the baggie back in the envelope, then frantically searched for a hiding place. Finally settling for the inside pouch of the suitcase Jonny had given her for the trip. She sat down on the unmade bed then laid back, staring at the blades of the ceiling fan. They still spilled cool air over her, but now everything felt chilled and different. The spooky sense of being watched invaded her space.
Frank’s low, harsh threats echoed in her ears, and the guilt of even thinking about betraying Jonny made her sick. She had to think. There had to be a way around this, but soon her head hurt from the endless loop of dead ends. Frank Barnett had a reputation that rattled even the toughest thugs. A dangerous man unafraid of consequences and crazy enough to make his threats a reality.
Again, she was forced to use her conning skills, but the hardest part would be acting normal when Jonny returned.
~ ~ ~
As Jonny promised, they toured South Beach in the afternoon. How ironic he appeared more relaxed, while her every nerve vibrated with tension. He dedicated the day to treating her like a tourist. They scoped out the glitzy souvenir shops on Washington Avenue, and he indulged her with Jimmy Choos and Louboutins in Bal Harbour. Every woman’s dream shopping spree, but it only fueled her guilt.
She wanted to enjoy the light blue sky and sparkling, turquoise water at the beachfront cabana at Nikki Beach, but her insides twisted with fear. The beverage manager, a friend of Jonny’s, already sent over a complimentary bottle of champagne, and she gulped one then two glasses. She played it off as thirst from the heat hoping it would calm her jangled nerves.
He smoothed the coconut-scented oil over her lower back, letting his hand slip into the bottom of her bikini.
“Better than Sleazeside?” he joked.
“Much better. I see why you like to come down here.” She motioned to the beach. “This place is outrageous.”
“Even better with you.” He leaned in for a kiss, and she sensed they weren’t alone.
“Hello, Jonny.”
They propped themselves up on the daybed, and Cheryl scrutinized their sudden guest. A shapely, brunette with big dark eyes and long, raven hair. Her exaggerated Sofia Vergara Spanish accent made her pronounce his name “Joanie.”
“Cheryl, this is Graciela.” Jonny swung his legs around to a sitting position.
Graciela extended her tan, manicured hand toward Cheryl but kept her eyes glued to Jonny.
“I had to hear from other people you were in South Beach.”
In seconds, her string-bikinied bottom settled dangerously close to Jonny.
“I just finished a shoot with a major photographer here on the beach.” Her sexy voice was in overdrive. “It will be in all the important magazines.”
“That’s great.” Jonny repositioned himself, but she slithered closer until he teetered on the edge of the lounger.
“We should get together later.” She leaned even closer and said in a stage whisper, “I’ve heard some interesting things about you.”
“It’s been great catching up.” Jonny quickly stood. “But as you can see, I'm with someone.”
“Yes, of course.” She stood with him and thrust out her ridiculous 36DDs. “You make sure you take care of yourself.”
Was she paranoid, or did Graciela’s last sentence have a double meaning?
“Who the hell was that rude bitch?” she asked the minute Graciela left.
“An old friend.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” She rolled her eyes. “Do you know anyone who doesn’t have fake boobs?”
“In New York, yes. In South Beach, no. It’s kind of a ritual down here. Get your hair done, get your nails done, get your boobs done.”
He searched for their cabana hostess. “Why don’t I get us some drinks?”
“We still have champagne.”
“I need something stronger.”
“You like to use food to change the subject. That and sex.”
“I go with what works.” He leaned in for a quick kiss. “I’ll get us some Caipirinhas. You’ll love them.”
He walked toward the bar, and she expelled a long-held sigh. Conning someone you didn’t care about was one thing, deceiving the man you were falling in love with sucked.
Her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it from the beach bag and flinched.
“Enjoying the sun?” Frank asked.
She jackknifed off the lounger and scanned the beach.
“Before you get to the club tonight, plant it on him.”
A shiver jetted up her spine. Somehow, someway, he had eyes on them.
Chapter 26
Jonny made a swift retreat to the outdoor bar before Cheryl could protest or ask any more questions he didn’t want to answer. He placed his drink order and enjoyed the warm sun on his chest. The huge rectangular bar serviced the pool and the beach, with most of the crowd gathered by the poolside DJ.
“I need to talk to you.”
Graciela was at his elbow, and he couldn’t help his sigh of exasperation.
“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not interested. And would you please drop the phony accent? It grates on my nerves.”
“Fine, be a fuckwad, but you should check that ego, lover boy, ‘cause this isn’t about you and me,” she said in her best Brooklynese.
“All right, what?” He played along hoping to speed things up.
Graciela glanced over her shoulder, then leaned into him. “There’s a lot of talk you’re pissing off the wrong people.”
“Story of my life.”
“No, I mean you’re the topic of everyone’s conversation.”
“Who’s everyone?”
“People who matter.” Graciela paused for effect. “People who say you’re on the run and hiding out because things are hot in New York.”
“Stop talking in code.” The bartender placed his drink in front of him and he downed it then motioned for another.
Graciela loved to be the center of attention as she dished the latest juicy story.
“You’ve pissed off Frank Barnett, and Carlos has his own problems.”
The bartender placed another drink in front of him and he raised it to his lips. “Like?” His heart beat at an irregular pace, but he struggled to concentrate.
“Like somebody running drugs through the club. Selling the shit right out in the open.”
He squinted at her over the glass. “And Carlos knows about this?”
“He does if he knows what business his nephew Alejandro is in.”
Carlos knew his position on drugs in the club, how guns and bloody bodies were bad for business, but Carlos had a soft spot for family.
She bit at her bottom lip. “I’d be real careful if I were you.”
His hand grazed the still-tender skin under his eye as he struggled to suck in the humid air.
“Doesn’t mean you and I can’t get together later. Maybe go to Mansion.” She let her finger trail down his bare chest and flirt with the waistband of his trunks. “You know, the place with those big stalls in the ladies’ room where you used to slam me against the wall and tell me I was the best fuck—”
“Stop talking shit.” He turned to block any view Cheryl might have, then yanked her hand away.
“Fine, just stay healthy.”
Jonny dragged in a deep breath and picked up their drinks. He wouldn’t share this with Cheryl but trying to act normal after that strange conversation would be difficult. He hadn’t detected any issues with Carlos earlier, but tonight at the club he would examine him closer. Maybe he’d missed some sign, or maybe G
raciela was spinning her usual drama queen shit.
Paranoia clutched at his gut and snaked through his nerve endings as he weaved his way to their cabana. The same couples he’d passed on the way to the bar now seemed to be staring at him, while the warm sun and tropical breeze became hot and steamy.
“What happened to the people who were next to us?” He handed Cheryl her drink.
“I don’t know. They left.”
He checked the cabana on the other side of them, finding it empty too.
“Jonny?” She sat up on the lounger.
“Yeah?” He spun around and spilled some of the ice onto the lounger.
“Everything okay?”
He flicked the ice cubes onto the sand, sat down, and forced a smile, hoping it appeared more natural than it felt.
“Are you going to tell me how you met Graciela, the Spanish model?”
“Her accent’s as fake as the rest of her. She’s from Bensonhurst. She came down here about ten years ago, shaved five years off her age, and got herself shot up with silicone.”
“Unbelievable. Is she even a model?”
“Sure. If you consider posing for a magazine that sells sex toys and being photographed by an ex-porn star named Dick Dragon.”
“I guess South Beach is the place to reinvent yourself.” Cheryl laughed, but she seemed off, or maybe he was projecting his own tension.
“Are you all right?” He drained the rest of his drink.
“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”
She searched his expression, and he swooped in for a kiss. He opened his mouth over hers, and the warm taste of the sweet Brazilian rum made him deepen the kiss. He wanted so much for her, for them.
He broke the kiss off and let his lips rest on hers. “As long as you’re with me, everything’s fine.”
He wanted to salvage the rest of their beach day, but he couldn’t enjoy the breaking waves or the bright blue sky anymore. He dissected every word of his conversation with Carlos earlier, but he couldn’t remember anything odd. He also replayed his encounter with Graciela. They’d had a few hook ups in the past which meant nothing to either of them, so she had no reason to lie to him. Nothing made sense. Exhausted and frustrated, he suggested they go back to the condo and was surprised when Cheryl appeared relieved.
Beyond Paradise Page 14
