Retaliatory Justice (The Talionic Files #1)

by Tawa M. Witko

  “And?” he asks with a grin.

  “I saw him at the restaurant, which was insanely busy and chaotic because Phillipe had me cooking AND serving his private dinner party tonight.”

  “Who was he entertaining?” Santiago asks curiously.

  I shrug. “Don’t know, but it was Marshall & his psycho girlfriend, Whitney, Phillipe, and two other people, a man and a woman that I wasn’t introduced to.”

  “Weird,” Santiago says, shaking his head. “You really need to leave that place. You know that right?”

  “I know and I will, after the Bon Appetit interview and feature.”

  He nods. “Now back to this Valentino person.”

  “Well, I bumped into him at the restaurant, and then after work I just wanted a drink, you know, to calm my nerves because that private party was all kinds of creepy.” I shake my head slightly and smile. “And wouldn’t you know it, he was in the bar having a drink. We got to talking and next thing I knew we were at his motel.”

  “What did he look like?” he asks, annoyed that I’m not giving him every little detail.

  “Santiago, he was so beautiful. I just can’t describe him,” I say smiling from ear to ear.

  “Well, I know he was white ‘cause you seriously like them white boys.”

  “Santiago, honestly. Why is that even an issue?” I ask perplexed.

  “It’s not an issue.” He smirks mischievously. “So, was he white?”

  “Yes,” I smile again. “God, he had the most gorgeous eyes. They looked like the ocean or something.”

  “Did you take a picture with him?”

  I shake my head. “No, we were…” I look down, slightly embarrassed talking about it. I chew on my lip and scrunch my nose before looking at him again. “We were kind of busy.”

  Santiago smiles his Cheshire cat smile and nods appreciatively. “So, how was it?”

  I close my eyes and let my head fall against the couch. “He was amazing. So good, no one has ever gotten me off like this guy did. It was crazy. I thought I was in one of those dirty books you read.”

  Santiago laughs riotously. “Well, that’s a good thing girl.”

  “But then…” I pause and glance at him.

  “Then… what!”

  “This morning, we were going to go eat breakfast before he had to leave and I was going to suggest he come here so I could cook for him.”

  “Okay,” he says confused.

  “As I was getting up, I stubbed my toe on his gun.”

  He sits up straight. “He had a gun?”

  I nod and chew on my lip some more.

  “Was he a cop or something?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t know, I didn’t stick around to find out. We talked mostly about me last night. He wanted to know everything about the…” I trail off again and hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. “How could I be so stupid?”

  “What?”

  I look at him, my face straining as I try not to cry. “He was just using me to get information about the restaurant and the owners. God, that just figures. He’s probably some hired gun trying to get to them and here I am thinking he was into me.”

  I draw my legs up and wrap my arms around them. The one time I throw caution to the wind and I end up screwing some guy sent to kill my bosses. Who knows, I probably gave him all kinds of information I shouldn’t have while in the wake of my orgasmic bliss. What am I, a magnet for bad guys? I feel my eyes watering. Valentino didn’t seem like a bad guy though.

  “I’m going to shower,” I say, standing abruptly.

  “Dominique,” Santiago starts to say but I just give him a small smile and kiss him on the cheek.

  “I’m okay,” I say before heading back to the bathroom.

  As I stare at myself in the mirror, my finger runs along my mouth, which already miss his lips. I look tired, but is it because I had great sex last night and didn’t get much sleep or is it because life keeps screwing with me? I wish I knew.

  “Are you okay?” I ask my reflection and then nod at myself.

  I wrap my hair in a bun and slip the shower cap over it before stepping into the shower stall. As the hot water hits my skin, I close my eyes and remember every single touch I received last night. I think about the sweet and loving way he interacted with me and I’m painfully reminded of what it felt like to be cherished and adored. I feel the tears come and don’t try to stop them. Why does life have to be so damn complicated?

  13 Under My Skin

  Valentino Masterson

  July 2nd

  “Approximate flight time to Chicago is two hours and nine minutes. The skies are clear so sit back and enjoy your flight.”

  “Can I get you anything?” the stewardess asks.

  “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

  I glance out the window, leaving New Orleans behind; leaving Marshall behind, and unfortunately, also leaving Dominique as well. I’m not sure why she took off like she did, but I suppose it was for the better. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. I don’t believe at all that she is involved in any of the illegal activities going on with Marshall or Enrico, but she is still involved, albeit involuntarily, and that fact alone bothers me a great deal. I close my eyes as my mind drifts to last night.

  As I roll off of her, she has this satisfied look on her face, which is still flushed from exertion, and the only thought I have at that moment is that if I could go again right now I totally would. As I push her hair out of her eyes, she glances at me, smiling, and my mouth is drawn to her, needing to touch her lips once again. We begin kissing, slow and sensual, light and gentle pecks with swipes of tongue interspersed. I move my lips to her neck, sucking her flesh into my mouth as she hums softly.

  “Mmm, we better stop, I don’t have any more condoms,” I say hesitantly as I lay another soft kiss on her neck.

  “I have one,” she mutters through another breathy moan.

  I glance up at her and grin. “Well, that’s good to know, but I’m not ready to go again, so you need to give me a few minutes.”

  She glances at the clock and giggles. “How much time do you need?”

  I laugh as I bring her giggling body even closer to me.

  “So, what should we do while we wait?” she asks, quirking her brow.

  I shrug. I don’t know what to do. I suppose we could talk, but I’ve never talked to the women I’m with afterwards. I usually just leave. What do normal people do after sex?

  “So what’s the weather like out here,” I ask lamely.

  She full out laughs, her body rubbing against mine in just the right way. “So, the weather, huh?”

  “All right, I admit that was kind of weak,” I say with a chuckle. “Let me try again.”

  “Go for it,” she says, trying to contain her snickers.

  “Do you like being a chef?”

  She stops laughing and nods. “It’s what I have always wanted to do. I’m living my dream. I mean, there are some things that could be better, but, you know, overall it’s been perfect.”

  “You don’t like the restaurant you work at?” I ask curiously.

  “Oh God, I love it, but the owners, not so much,” she says, scrunching her brows together.

  “Why? What’s wrong with them?” I ask as I run my thumb along the crease in her brow. The agent in me perks up, maybe I can find an in through her.

  “Well, Phillipe is all right, I guess. Just kind of pushy,” she continues with a slight frown.

  “What do you mean, pushy? Is he hitting on you?” I ask a little angrier than I should. I have no claim to her, I barely know her but the thought of her going out with someone else kind of pisses me off.

  “Yeah, but he’s harmless. The other two, good Lord,” she starts shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

  I perch myself on my elbow and move her hair out of the way again. I want her to feel comfortable telling me everything she can. Any bit will help, plus I am generally interested. I can’t imagine that she is
involved with them in any way, but I need to be sure. She can see the intensity in my eyes and tilts her head slightly, confused I would imagine by my response. I give her a smile, hoping to ease the sudden tension in the room and run my hand over the small of her back until it rests on her rear.

  “What’s up with the other two?” I ask playfully as I squeeze her rear.

  She grins. “Ah, well, they’re just off. Mr. Beauchamp is just creepy, always lurking about and sneaking up on me. You know that old saying, ‘if it were a snake it would have already bitten you’?” she asks and I grin while nodding. “He’s like that, he’s not there one minute and then he’s suddenly there the next just giving off all these predatory vibes,” she shudders slightly.

  “Sounds like an asshole to me.”

  She nods appreciatively. “That would be a good assessment.”

  “So is the other owner a jerk too?”

  “Oh man, that woman is psycho and she hates me something fierce.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you,” I offer with a quick peck on her lips.

  Her expression becomes extremely serious. “She does hate me, Valentino,” her eyes are dark and full of fear. “In fact, I get the distinct impression she would like to see me dead.”

  She closes her eyes, I can see the rapid rise of her chest, and my heart starts beating fast. Is she really worried about this? Do I need to look into this woman more deeply? Why it matters to me, I don’t know, but it does. I kiss her lightly on the lips and then pull her atop of me as she deepens our exchange. After a few minutes, she gives me an innocent smile, which makes me smile as well.

  “Sorry about that. I’m sure she doesn’t want me dead. At least I hope not,” she says with a nervous laugh.

  I run my hand into her hair, entwining several of her braids in my fingers, pulling her lips down to me, enveloping her in a searing kiss. My free hand is all over her, running up and down her back. She’s rubbing her body against mine while her hands scratch my scalp, and at this moment, I am really regretting cutting my hair so short.

  “Where’s the condom?” I mutter between our kiss.

  “Hold on,” she tells me as she rolls off. “Don’t move!”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She gets up and trots over to her pile of clothes and the little bag she had with her, rummaging through it until she looks over her shoulder, waving the condom. When she gets back to the bed she crawls on top of me, well aware that my body is ready for round two.

  “Seems like our wait time is up,” she says with a knowing smirk.

  Pulling her mouth to mine again, I kiss her and roll us so that I’m on top of her. My hands are gripping her hair as I slowly let my lips work down her neck and collarbone. She’s humming and moaning softly as her fingernails gently caress my back. It feels so calming, and, for a brief moment, I feel the normalcy that other people must feel.

  “You’re perfect!” I murmur as I look up at her.

  Her hand moves to my face, cupping it lightly. “So are you.”

  I have no words at the moment. She has a thoughtful look on her face as she stretches her neck and starts kissing me softly. She pulls me down to her, kissing me lovingly and I wonder if this is the way it’s supposed to be. I start making love to her while her hands knead my shoulders. What she’s doing makes me feel, I don’t know…loved. I gasp at that thought and let out some form of a whimper as my eyes meet hers again.

  “Valentino,” she whispers reverently before kissing me once again.

  I’m jolted out of my sleep by the plane shifting downwards. I look around and see that the seatbelt light is flashing above me. The stewardess walks by me and smiles before tapping the seat tray of the person next to me. He quickly locks it in place as the pilot begins speaking.

  “We are making our final approach into Chicago O’Hare where the current time is three eighteen; temperature is a modest seventy-eight degrees…”

  Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I glance out the window to see Chicago getting bigger and bigger. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow and meeting Agent Adams but there isn’t much I can do about it. I close my eyes and think about Dominique. We had made love for a good twenty minutes. Usually I am in and out. It’s about me getting off, but last night was different. Last night I wanted to stay inside of her for as long as I possibly could. I didn’t want it to end. I run my hand up my neck, wishing things with her had ended differently.

  “Sir, can I ask you to raise your seat?” the stewardess asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I mumble as I breathe in deeply.

  July 3rd

  “Masterson,” Clayton says loudly, touching my shoulder.

  I glance at him, frowning. “What?”

  “What the hell is going on with you?” He asks as Zach opens the door and we all step inside our team room.

  “Sit down everyone.” I say as I stop at the board, staring at Marshall’s picture, remembering what Dominique said about her having a bad feeling about him. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I took an impromptu trip to New Orleans this weekend.”

  “WHAT!” I hear behind me as everyone starts muttering.

  I sigh and turn around, facing them all. I can see a mixture of disappointment and fear at my impulsive decision. I take a seat and cross my hands in front of me. I feel like I’m off my game and that is bad. I blow out a quick breath, trying to ready myself.

  “So did you find out anything?” Clayton asks, waving his hand to quiet everyone in the room.

  I shrug as Dominique flashes in my mind. Closing my eyes, I shake my head before looking at them again. Now they are clearly confused. Get it together, Masterson.

  “I talked to one of the employees there and it looks like Mr. Beauchamp and his co-owners hosted a private dinner party on Saturday night. She said she wasn’t introduced and wouldn’t give me too much detail but,” I pause and chew on my lip before continuing. “She said she has more concerns about the woman, Ms. Badour, and that the other man, Mr. De la Fosse, didn’t seem so bad.”

  “She, huh?” Jeff says wagging his brows while Zach and Clayton snicker.

  I lean back and my face morphs as I rise angrily. Everyone sobers quickly. I don’t know what I plan on doing but I’m pissed. What’s wrong with me? I push away from the table and walk to the board, needing to control my emotions.

  “Maybe he didn’t tap it after all,” Jeff jokes.

  I turn and the glare I give him halts him in his tracks. He stops smiling immediately and looks away as I turn back towards our board.

  “I swear you’re so freaking stupid,” Michelle groans.

  “O’Neal, look into the Badour woman. Something big is about to happen. I have a bad feeling about it all. Jones, what’s the status on Martin?” I ask, turning around again and taking my seat.

  “I followed him to his residence. He’s staying in some dive down by the pier. I got in but he doesn’t have much there. He has been taking Enrico all around town, including the bar owned by the Komarovski family. I heard from organized crime that Dimitri was out of the country but his son Aleksei was there. I don’t know if there is a connection at all. My buddy at the bureau said that organized crime is scrambling because there is no love lost between these two families.” She looks around the table. “They’re really worried. This has the potential to get deadly.”

  “This thing keeps getting bigger and bigger,” Clayton laments with a shake of his head.

  “If the families bury the hatchet, so to speak, on this then we are in some serious trouble,” Jeff says with agitation.

  “And I can’t get a handle on this trio in New Orleans. I need to get in the restaurant. I need to see what’s in their office,” I say with a frustrated sigh.

  “Maybe ‘she’,” Jeff says with air quotes and another wag of his brows, “can get you in.”

  I shoot him another dirty look and this time Clayton reaches up and thumps the back of his head. Jeff jumps up, pissed, and t
ries to go after Clayton but Zach stands between them, blocking Jeff’s access. Of course, Clayton is not helping the situation by laughing at him and motioning for him to come at him.

  “Sit down, all of you,” I say, rubbing my temples. Before I can say anything else, there is a knock at the door and Anderson is stepping inside the room with a man I presume is Agent Adams.

  “Agent Masterson, meet Agent Adams from our New Orleans field office,” Anderson says upon entering.

  Adams walks over to me and shakes my hand, smirking as he motions his chin at my stitches. “You must have pissed someone off,” he says with a chuckle.

  “That’s how I know I’m doing my job,” I retort, letting go of his hand.

  He grins and nods. “I suppose that’s true.”

  He glances at the other people in the room. “Agents Hoffman, O’Neal, Paulson and Jones,” I say introducing my team.

  He glances at Michelle for a moment. “There was a Jones in New York, you any relation?”

  “I transferred here a few months ago,” she says, eyeing him with disdain.

  He turns back to me and rubs his hands together before walking passed me to our board. As soon as Anderson steps out of the office he turns and sticks his hands in his pockets.

  “Look, I know you all don’t want me here and, trust me, I don’t want to be here either, but this is how it is. So tell me what you have and I’ll tell you what I have.”

  I motion for him to take a seat. We spend the next two hours going over everything we have learned so far, including what I found out in New Orleans this past weekend. He seemed really angry that I was snooping around out there without alerting him first. He insisted that I reveal my source. I wouldn’t though. I’m not giving him Dominique. He shot down all of our concerns about Beauchamp, Badour, and De la Fosse, indicating that he has had them under surveillance for a month now and so far he has not caught them doing anything unusual.

  “What a jerk,” Zach mutters the minute Adams walks out the door.