Mr. Mysterious In Black

by S. Ann Cole

  This story is a work of fiction. Things portrayed in this eBook are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  All rights to this book belong to S. Ann Cole author. Except for brief quotations used in any review. Any other forms of reproduction or utilization of this work, in part or in whole are forbidden without the permission of the Author, S. Ann Cole.

  Cover art © Renu Sharma | www.thedarkrayne.com

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Appetizer

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Acknowledgement

  About The Author

  Contact Ann

  For The Reader

  Dedication

  For Vyjanti,

  My light at the end of the tunnel…

  All that, and more.

  Appetizer

  Peace Of Mind

  By: S. Ann Cole

  I saw her,

  Sitting by the riverside—

  Her eyes closed,

  Her smile ever so bright,

  Her head under a crown—

  A crown of lilies…

  Peace of mind.

  I saw her again,

  Dancing in the rain,

  Her smile was the same,

  No one could disdain.

  She danced as a child,

  Placid, meek, mild…

  Peace of mind.

  Ah! Here she is,

  Sitting on a swing,

  She sways to and fro,

  Her golden strands the wind blows.

  Yes, her smile is the same,

  Her countenance remains.

  Peace of mind.

  Prologue

  He was tired.

  Dog-tired.

  Amped up by pleasure mere minutes ago, his heartbeat was beginning to even out, pushing him onward and into the soothing darkness of sleep. Unfortunately, he was yanked back from the beckoning darkness when the feel of soft feminine hands chased by flutters of kisses played on his chest. Languid, he opened his eyes to the annoying realization that the female of the night was still present. Weariness, it seemed, had delivered him a hard slug over the head, for it was wonted of him to dismiss the source of his temporary pleasure at the very minute he found his release. His eyes skidded over the olive-skinned, platinum blonde who was having a meal of his chest, and his brain pained when he attempted to remember her name. She was a bank investor; he could remember only that much and no more, for he hadn’t been interested in what she had to say when she’d blabbered all night at the Gala. He’d merely paid attention to the fact that she had a comely figure with long, toned legs that were accentuated by her six-inch heels, which had the effect of him demanding a few hours of exploration. Though there was no hope, he tried again for her name…Lacy…Lucy…Lisa…ah hell, he didn’t know and he didn’t care.

  Nameless Blond pressed her plum lips against the middle of his chest and murmured in a sultry voice that caressed him in places that he really preferred to remain inert at the moment. “I want more. So much more of you. Let’s go all night, I’m not yet sated.”

  A sigh flowed from him as he mentally kicked himself for almost falling asleep with a woman in his bed. “Well, I am. Get dressed. Moore will take you home.” The covers flipped back with a simple flex of his muscular arm and he swung his feet to the red carpeted floor, then used the heels of his hands to rub the weight of sleep from his eyes. No avail. Through an emerging yawn, he added, “Oh, great sex by the way. Thanks.”

  The protesting muscles of his limbs told him just how exhausted he was. Lovello was right: he burned himself out far too much. His eyelids felt like a Ziploc bag loaded with quarts. It occurred to him, as he fought with sleep at the edge of the bed, that there was no shuffling from Nameless Blond. Turning, he pointed his stare on the blond-haired creature whose green eyes shone with tears as she clutched the black silk sheet over her bosom. Wrestling with the anger that started to build inside him, he took a calming breath and said, “Did I not tell you to get dressed?”

  Her voice was gravelly when she asked, “So I’m just a ‘great sex’ that you send off with a ‘thanks’?”

  Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Telling a woman to leave more than once had never happened before, because he wasn’t normally this tired, and when he wasn’t this tired, he was everything analogous to a whirling devil. And so, when he gave a command, women usually sensed the peril and knew better than to argue. “Pretty much. Thought you understood what this was.”

  Lazy as his eyes felt at the moment, he flicked them open with evident severity and pinned them to hers. “Get the hell up and get going, woman! Or so help me…”

  Recording his seriousness at last, Nameless Blond scrambled from the bed and crept around on the fluffy red carpet retrieving pieces of her clothes. Appeased, he strolled to the floor-to-ceiling glass window of the hotel room and gazed out at the twinkling city of Chicago. The weak shade of light from the corner lamp silhouetted his tall, muscular frame in the darkness as he stood nude and pensive before the window. He used his thumbs to crick his fingers one by one on both hands simultaneously as he tried his damndest not to think of her; but such was an impossible task. How much longer? he pondered. How much longer would it be before he could regain the missing half of his soul?

  God, his heart ached at every thought of her. The gnawing fact that the hands that were caressing her weren’t his, that the lips that were kissing hers weren’t his, that the body that was making love to hers…oh dear god, it’s as if a bullet was left lodged in the center of his heart, killing him slowly, painfully, surely. His fingers curled into mighty fists at his side. No. He could tolerate it no longer. He needed to reclaim what was his. It was time he apprised Cali D of who she really was to him. That she belonged not to Cali D, but to him. And if that piece of trash tried to rebel, he’d make sure the a-hole woke up in some godforsaken country at the end of the earth that knew not civility.

  A faint click of the door handle pulled him from his malevolent thoughts and he turned to the view of Nameless Blond, her green eyes bright as she said, “Goodnight, Mr. Nelson.”

  In lieu of answering, he nodded at the opened door, impatient for her presence to be no more. The profound guilt that he always suffered after sleeping with someone that wasn’t her, had never allowed him to be pleasant to these innocent women who simply wanted more of him. His usual reaction to the pang of guilt he felt along with the angering fact that he couldn’t have her instead, was to take it out on the woman present. It was awful, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Nameless Blond gave a sad smile and tottered away, the door closing silently behind her. He marveled at how alluring her green eyes were. But alluring as they were, he favored eyes that were seductively brown. A smile brightened his face. Cognac-brown to be exact.

  The loud din of his cell phone broke through the silence of the room and he walked leisurely i
n his nudeness to retrieve it from the nightstand. At first glance of the caller ID, a huge commotion erupted in his chest. “Ralph, at this hour? Please tell me she’s okay,” he growled into the receiver, even though his eyes were squeezed shut with fear of receiving unwanted news.

  “Yes, Mr. Nelson. She’s sound. But…”

  “Out with it, Ralph!”

  “She’s taken on a job at Secre X, Sir.”

  “Secre X? Tico’s Club?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “What in God’s good name is she doing there?! Please, please say bartending,” he barked.

  Ralph paused for a moment. “No, Sir. She’s dancing.”

  Mere seconds ago, his eyes were heavy with sleep, but they were now wide awake with shock and rage. Things were getting out of hand. “What the hell happened to her job at the Bistro?”

  “She lost it a week after her split with Cali D, Sir.”

  His chest suddenly felt vacant, and he realized that it was because his heart had fallen to the pit of his stomach. “She…She hasn’t gone back to Cali D since she left him?”

  “No, Sir. It seems she’s serious this time around. And it’s smart timing, too. For, as you already know, the Cubans are out for his soul this time.”

  Fire blazed from his nostrils. “Then why the hell am I now hearing of all this?! That she never went back to Cali D or that she lost her job?! What the hell am I paying you all for?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir. These past few weeks you’ve been from country to country, state to state and every time we’ve tried to get in touch with you…it’s to no avail.”

  Damn, his addiction to work had caused him to neglect the most significant thing in his life. A weep lingered somewhere around his stomach area. If she had to pick up a job at Secre X, then that means she’s in need. Good God, she’s hurting and in need! She shouldn’t be hurting when he could so easily take her pain away. She shouldn’t be in need of anything when she already had it all. “When did she start?”

  “Tonight, Sir.”

  Perfect. “Go and get Tico to phone me. Now.” He began pacing the length of the room, his fingers raking through his hair repeatedly. “And from here out, every goddamn move she makes, I. Want. To. Know. Got it? Doesn’t matter how busy I am, don’t stop calling until you get through to me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. I’ll reschedule all I’d planned here in Chicago and fly in first thing in the morning. I’m expecting a full report of all the events that took place within the last month.”

  His fingers trembled as he pressed off the call and sank to his knees, dropping his head in his hands as his broad shoulders jerked in agony.

  Oh, my sweet, brown-eyed girl, what are you doing to yourself? I’ve waited too long, haven’t I? Seven years too long. Damn…

  Chapter One

  Iridescent rays danced across my partially nude body as I wrapped my bare, long legs around the cold stainless steel that was, at the moment, my fortress. Imbibing half bottle of Coffee Patrón within a two-hour span was proving to be a really, really bad idea. My mind was a vortex, my vision turbid and my bones liquefied.

  I opened my eyes and regarded my onlookers who bore lascivious smiles and held green bills aloft. All were wealthy and powerful business men whose wives were either forty pounds heavier than when they’d first tied the knot to do any justice to a sexy lingerie, or they’ve simply lost the sparks they once had.

  As I serpentined to the center of the stage, I noticed, through my blurry vision, that Mr. Mysterious in Black was present. Ensconced in his rented booth, a lone sporter as usual, regarding me intently. Weird, was how I’d describe him. He never dances with anyone, but merely sits in his booth all night and stares at me, watching my every move. Sometimes I get the inane thought that he’s some sort of a serial killer who preys on vulnerable women. If such was the case though, it would be a complete waste of a perfectly hot hunk.

  I have always kept my distance from him, have never seen him up close, and club lights do have the tendency of making anyone look good. But if my distant scrutinies didn’t lie, then I’d say he’s one alluring sonuvabitch. All dark-haired, square-jawed and fiery intense. Viewing him up close was necessary to be ascertained, though. Not like that’s ever going to happen.

  With alcohol fueled bravery, I winked at him and flashed a coquettish smile. His response was a disapproving scowl and the averting of his eyes.

  Ouch.

  I was only—because I was drunk tonight—trying to be nice; as a way of atonement for my numerous refusals to his persistent requests for a dance with me. No way was I going within a foot of him. He was too…intimidating. He only wore the shade black and no one seemed to have any information on him—well, at least they say they don’t. It’s as if he was feared or something. That’s why I nicknamed him Mr. Mysterious in Black.

  I snaked tortuously up my stainless steel fortress, closing my eyes and allowing myself to float away on the waves of Michael Jackson’s Dirty Dianna. Torn now, and starting feeling like a Dirty Sadie myself. Being dragged back to the reality of why I’d gotten this drunk in the first place. Why I’d subjected myself to this plebeian job. Why I was so disoriented.

  Feeling like breaking an arbitrary rule—that had been given only to me—I awkwardly tried to undo my bra. At the undoing of the first hook, I lost my grip and went spiraling to the floor. Much too debilitated to move even a finger, I remained on the stage floor and listened as Michael Jackson screamed like a bitch in my ears, telling me how dirty I was. For seconds, minutes or hours, maybe, I just remained sprawled on the stage. Until I felt hands on my arms and feet, and my body being carried away as I was being rescued off-stage.

  There was soon something soft and plush beneath me. The couch in the dress room I assumed. My eyes flicked open and I blinked rapidly, trying to gain sight of my surroundings. Catching a familiar form, I let my eyes tentatively travel up to the Stygian, glowering gaze of my pissed off boss. His wavy blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his black muscle shirt stretched helplessly over his fully matured brawns. Tico was a big man. A really big man.

  “What the hell is wrong with you tonight, huh?” he growled.

  Unable to form a coherent sentence, I groaned. My eyes darted around the cluttered room. Bright round bulbs lined above rows of make-up mirrors that each had a fully or half-naked girl seated in front of it painting new faces over their original ones. Feathers and fluffs and bras and various dance costumes were strewed all around as girls strolled in and out of the dressing room. Pleased to find that no one was paying attention to Tico and me, I relaxed.

  Failing to meet his angry eyes again, I said, “I just fell on my ass, Tico. Have some pity on me, will you?”

  “You fell on your ass because you were trying to defy me. I told you: do not remove your bra!!”

  “It’s an enigma why this rule applies only to me,” I said in indignation. “How the hell am I supposed to make money? I’m not allowed to dance with anyone and I’m not allowed to go topless. What’s the point of me being here then?”

  “Because I, your boss, said so! And for the money, you don’t need it. Yes, Sadie, I wonder, too, why do you think you need to be here?”

  I gazed up at him as if he’d spoken a distinct language. Uh, let’s see: because I lost my job merely a week after dumping my good-for-nothing-but-trouble drug dealer of a boyfriend. Have difficulties getting another job. Student loans—debt. My mother’s ailment—debt. Three months’ worth of rent owed to Brenda, and I’ll be out on my ass if I don’t have her rent by the time she returns from her excursion—more debt.

  I closed my eyes and swung an arm across my face. “I won’t even attempt at answering that question, Tico.”

  Tico sighed. “It’s only because I can’t say, Sadie,” he gently removed my hand from my face and gazed down at me with an I-know-something-that-you-don’t-know expression. “But trust me, you don’t need to be here. This job is not for you.�
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  “No, it’s definitely not for me. On that I can agree. But I need the money.”

  Tico grunted in frustration just as a cocktail waitress strolled in with a glass of ice and a bottle of Club Soda. Taking the tray from her, he poured the Club Soda in the glass and sat next to me on the couch, bringing the glass to my lips, “Drink this.”

  Without hesitation I drank, because frankly, I hated being drunk. I needed nothing more than to head home and fall into an infinite sleep. “Thanks.”

  Tico smiled his signature panty-dropping smile. “My pleasure, Sadie.” He leaned over to whisper so only I could hear, “Just don’t forget me when Prosperity starts begging to be your best friend.” He revealed that I-know-something-that-you-don’t-know expression again, got up and strolled from the room without a backward glance.

  What the heck was that supposed to mean?

  As I tried to think through my intoxicated brain about Tico’s inexplicable behavior, I felt familiar hands wrap around me, and I allowed my head to rest on her shoulders. “Thanks Kash, I needed that.”

  “Sadie, I know you got some awful news tonight, but I can assure you, Patrón is nobody’s friend,” Kash said, her brown eyes sincere, her caramel skin glowing. “Plus, drinking and working don’t mesh well. You’ll end up doing things you wouldn’t normally do and then regret in the morning—you almost going topless is one example.”

  In response, I merely gave an “hmm.” Far too inebriated to take a lecture.

  Kash looked down at me with a smile I knew was genuine. “Let me help you get dressed and take you home. You look tired and mindless. Sleep is the only cure.”

  To that, I agreed.

  After getting dressed and gathering my things, I leaned on Kash’s shoulder as we steered through the club towards the exit. Tico popped in my line of vision.

  “You’re leaving?” he asked.

  “Yes, Tico. I can’t even stand straight. What do you expect? Am I restricted from leaving the club, too?”