“And you found all of this out in just a few weeks?”
“He’s a horny gringo.”
Carlos looked at the pictures again, taking time to examine each one. “How did we get the pictures from inside the room?”
“Consuela’s sister knows one of the maids at the hotel. She let us in to plant a mic and camera.”
Carlos nodded as he paced. “This is good. Give Consuela and her sister a bonus and send them home. They are to tell no one about this.”
“Si, señor. And do I continue the surveillance?”
“No need. Now we will teach our friend a lesson.”
Patrick Snider gave a rousing speech detailing his investment plan for the Latino community. It incited the people to a thunderous applause and standing ovation. New money for the community meant cleaning up the streets, getting rid of drug dealers, and bringing prosperity to the deteriorating Mexican district. It was a long-standing platform for politicians attempting to secure the Latino vote, but this was a first for the banking community. Snider was a clever man. He knew how to grease the wheels, and this move would put him in a position of power.
Carlos waited for Snider to leave the stage before dialing the man’s number.
“Hello.”
“Excellent speech, Señor Snider. You sounded like you really meant all of those things. Were those emotions real?”
“Who is this? How did you get this number?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m hanging up,” Snider said.
“Before you do, I have something to say about your girlfriend.”
There was a long pause. “What do you want?”
“Ah, now there’s a question that does matter.” Carlos let his pause equal Snider’s. Then he said, “We should find a place to meet.”
“About what?”
“About the pictures I have of you and...let me see...Sharon, I believe her name is. They are nice pictures. She has an attractive figure and looks especially good in this picture where you have her bent over a table in your hotel suite.”
“You fucker. What do you want?”
“All in good time. I will see you soon.”
“Wait—” There was a short pause, then, “I won’t be blackmailed. Not even if it means the end of my career.”
“And what about your marriage?”
“Fuck you. Print the pictures, tell the press, tell my wife if you want. I won’t be subject to blackmail. I’d rather resign or get divorced.”
Carlos fidgeted as he talked. “A bold stance to take, señor, but I should remind you that there are things worse than resigning. Things even worse than divorce.”
“I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not dealing with some two-bit crook. I’m not afraid to admit my affair. I don’t want to, but it’s not the worst that can happen.”
Carlos laughed. “Señor, you are right. I apologize for not understanding you. Perhaps we’ll talk another time.”
“I don’t think so. Do what you want with your pictures and any other evidence you have. I have a company to run.”
“Good luck,” Carlos said and hung up. He turned to Tico, who stood rigid, awaiting orders. “I am going to work out, but afterward…I think I’ll need companionship.”
“Si, señor.”
“She must be beautiful. Sexy. Seductive.” Carlos smiled, the kind that made Tico shiver. “She must be fit. And this time, I would prefer a dark-skinned girl with smooth skin.”
Tico waited, but when it appeared that Carlos had finished, he started to leave. “I will see it is done.”
“One who speaks Spanish would be nice.”
“Si, señor,” Tico said, then left the room.
Chapter 16
Girlfriends
Sahrina finished her coffee, set the cup in the sink, then walked down the hall and banged on the bedroom door. “Get up, Andrea. It’s almost noon.”
Andrea’s voice was groggy. “I usually sleep late.”
“Not if you’re staying here.”
A few minutes later Andrea came out of the bedroom, wearing pajamas and a pair of heavy wool socks. “You keep it cold in here.”
“It’s November. It’s supposed to be cold.”
Andrea rubbed her eyes. “Do you have any hot coffee?”
Sahrina gestured to her left. “I did a few hours ago. Make your own. It’s on the counter next to the refrigerator.”
“I’ll get you some money for food as soon as—”
“Don’t worry about that. Our boss won’t want you working for anyone else as long as he has things for us to do.”
“Yeah, well that thing we did the other night didn’t go so well. Do you think he’ll give us more work?”
“I’m sure,” Sahrina said. “Make your coffee and come outside. It’s a nice day.”
After the coffee was brewed, Andrea grabbed a cup from the cabinet and took the pot with her. It would take more than one cup to get her started today. She opened the sliding door, walked outside, and sat next to Sahrina by the pool. “I could get used to this.”
“No reason why you can’t have it,” Sahrina said.
Andrea laughed. “Me? I’m lucky to afford the room I share with LaDonna. Damn junkie whore.”
“Remember how I told you we’d be paid well for the other night?”
Andrea nodded. “You said five hundred, but I figured we’re screwed since he died.”
Sahrina smiled. “The man we work for is fair. And generous. He knows we didn’t do anything wrong. After all, how could we know he’d have a heart attack?”
“You mean we’re still getting paid?”
Sahrina walked into the kitchen, pulled an envelope from behind a few plates in the cabinet, came back outside, and handed it to Andrea. “Not just paid. Paid extra.”
Andrea ripped open the envelope. It was stuffed with hundred-dollar bills. “Damn! There must be—”
“Two thousand dollars,” Sahrina said. “For each of us.”
Andrea continued counting, then looked at Sahrina. Her face lit up. “And you said there will be more work?”
“Plenty more,” Sahrina said. “As long as we do our job, we’ll both get rich.”
“What about the guy who died? Suppose they try to pin that on us?”
“That business should blow over soon. They’re not going to spend a lot of time on a guy who died of a heart attack. Besides, that’s why you’re staying with me. Nobody will find you here.”
“How long do you think I should stay?”
“Until our boss says it’s clear. And remember, don’t go back home, don’t talk to anybody, don’t go anywhere you’ll be recognized. Not until we get the okay.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I can hang out here awhile.”
The phone rang. Sahrina went to get it. She talked for a few minutes then returned wearing a big smile. “Things are looking good. We have a new client.”
Chapter 17
A Dangerous Workout
Brent Davids parked in his usual spot in front of the gym. He locked his briefcase, tucked it under the seat, and closed the car door. As he walked across the parking lot, he clicked twice on the remote to make sure the doors were locked. He felt good today—filled with excess energy. Good thing, because today was leg day.
He entered the gym, signed in, hung his keys on the rack, and made his way to the back room. Squats came first. He loaded two forty-five-pound plates and two ten-pounders on the bar. With the bar itself weighing forty-five, that got him to 155 pounds—up almost 11 percent from last month. Progress. That’s what mattered. If he could show returns like that at work, he’d be CEO within a year.
The first two sets came easy; the last set he struggled with. After finishing, he wiped his forehead and leaned on the bar to rest. A young woman with a knockout body walked by. She had an iPod Shuffle hooked to an almost-see-through top giving him a peek at the black sports bra underneath. Then his gaze shifted down to her tight workout
pants. What a fantastic ass!
As she walked, she stumbled on the protruding edge of a rowing machine, almost caught herself, then fell. Hard. Brent rushed over to her. “Are you all right?”
She pushed up on her elbows, started to stand, and almost fell again. “Oh God, that was embarrassing.”
Brent smiled. She had a strong Texas twang. It sounded sexy. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine. But thanks.” She took two steps and faltered, grabbing Brent’s arm for support. “Damn!”
“What’s wrong?”
Her face scrunched up. “It’s my ankle. I must have twisted it.”
“You better sit. I’ll get some ice.”
“That’s all right,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Brent said, and began thinking of ways to make a connection.
“I’m sure. I really appreciate it though.”
“What about your clothes? Didn’t you bring something?”
“Everything’s in the locker except my keys. I’ll get the clothes tomorrow.” She took another step, grimaced, and held out her hand to him. “Maybe you could help me to the car. I’ll make it home from there.”
Brent slowly walked her toward the front door of the gym, one arm wrapped around her and enjoying her firm grip on his other arm. Her hair had the scent of…strawberries. Mixed with the smell of sweat from her workout, it was almost too much. He felt himself grow excited.
They weren’t twenty steps into the parking lot when she pointed to an Acura near the front row. “There,” she said. “The silver one.”
Brent opened the door and helped her into the car. “I can drive you home if you want.”
She laughed. “Then how would you get home?”
“No, I meant I could drive you home in my car. You could get yours later.”
“You’re sweet, but I can make it. I’m fine to drive with my right foot.” She reached up and pecked him on the cheek. “Thanks for the offer,” she said, and drove off.
Brent watched her drive away, but thoughts of her stayed with him through the night. That peck on the cheek, combined with the smell of her, and the image of that fantastic ass pushing against her pants, was enough for several weeks of dreaming.
The next night, he stopped for a drink on the way home. A young woman was limping across the floor from the bar with what looked like a strawberry daiquiri in hand. When he got closer, he recognized the girl from the gym. He walked up to her, a smile on his face. “How’s the ankle?”
She looked up at Brent, squinted her eyes, then said, “Oh my God—the gym.” She laughed. “I didn’t recognize you in a suit.”
“Today is my day of rest from the gym” he said. “But it’s back to the grind tomorrow.”
She took a seat at a small table. “I’ve got a week or two of rest left myself. It’s not what I wanted, but…”
Brent fidgeted. “Well, good seeing you. I’m going to get a drink.”
“Are you here with someone?” she asked.
“No. I stopped in on my way home.”
She gestured to the chair opposite her. “Nobody’s sitting here,” she said. “By the way, I’m Sahrina.”
He reached his hand out. “Brent Davids. Nice to formally meet you,” he said. “I’m getting a drink. Be right back.”
“Take your time,” Sahrina said. “I need to send a text anyway.”
Brent returned a few minutes later.
“Beer?” Sahrina said.
Brent proudly held up the mug. “Not beer—Guinness.”
“I didn’t figure you for the beer type.”
“That’s me,” Brent said. “Full of surprises.”
She smiled and looked at him over the rim of her glass. “I like surprises.”
“Do you come here often?” Brent asked.
“I don’t know the answer to that yet. I just moved here from San Antonio.” She pronounced it the way Texans do, without the “i” or “o” sound at the end of the word.
“San Antonio, huh? I love that city. Austin, too.”
“So what’re you doing in Houston?”
Brent sighed. “Business. I was transferred here about five years ago. I’m not complaining; I like Houston, but someday I’d love to get back to Austin.” He took a sip of beer and then said, “How about you? What brought you to Houston?”
“I was with a small software company that went under. I tried finding another job there and one in Austin, but Houston won out.”
“Lucky us,” Brent said, and he felt himself blush.
“What do you have planned tonight?” Sahrina asked.
“I guess dancing’s out of the question,” he said.
“More surprises,” she said, and laughed. “Dancing would be out of the question even if I weren’t hurt. I’m a terrible dancer.”
Brent shot her an I-don’t-believe-it look. “Now I’m surprised. I figured you for the kind that tears up the dance floor.”
Sahrina seemed to ignore the comment. She stretched to the side, looking past Brent’s shoulder. A smile lit her face; she stood and waved. “Andy! Over here.”
Brent’s heart sank, that is, until he turned to see that Andy was a nice-looking young blonde in a dress cut shorter than Sahrina’s hair.
Andy and Sahrina hugged. “Take a seat,” Sahrina said, and gestured toward Brent. “This is Brent, a friend of mine.”
The friend part sounded nice. “What are you drinking?” Brent asked.
“White wine. Whatever you pick is fine with me.”
***
When Brent was out of earshot, Sahrina turned to Andy. “Remember, you’re a waitress. You moved here from Nashville, and you’re living with me until you find a place.”
“I know how to handle myself,” Andrea said. “And yes, I remember.”
Sahrina stared at Andrea and gritted her teeth. She lost her sweet tone. “I’m only going to say it once. You’re a waitress, not a hooker. You’re an innocent young woman about to be enamored by this handsome young businessman, who likes to dance, by the way. If you screw up…there are plenty more like you I can find.”
Andrea gulped and nodded. “I can do innocent. Most of my clients want innocent or dirty. I can do either.”
“Good. Be ready; he’s coming.”
Brent set the glass of wine in front of Andrea. “Hope you like it.”
She smiled. “I’m sure I will.”
The three of them chatted for a while, and then a Taylor Swift song started playing, filling the dance floor with people. Andrea grabbed Brent’s hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”
Brent looked at Sahrina.
“Go on,” she said. “You know I can’t.”
Andrea and Brent danced to Taylor Swift and Beyonce, and then to Lady GaGa. In between, Brent gulped down the Guinness, and Andrea slowly sipped her wine. And while they danced, Sahrina prepared the syringe. She didn’t want to use it, but it was better to be prepared.
After a few more dances, Sahrina yawned and said, “I’m getting tired, Andy. We should be going.”
Brent appeared to panic. “It’s early,” he said, and his words slurred a little. “How about coming back to my place?”
“Sounds fun,” Andrea said, the excitement showing in her voice and her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Sahrina said.
Andy grabbed her hand. “Come on, Rina. The night’s young.”
Sahrina looked at Brent. “How far is it?”
Brent perked up. “Not far. Maybe twenty minutes.”
Sahrina shook her head and laughed. “All right. Let’s go. We’ll follow you.”
Brent tossed a twenty onto the table for a tip, and then grabbed hold of Sahrina’s arm to help her out. “I hope you like swimming.”
“Swimming? It’s November, for God’s sake.”
“Don’t worry, the pool’s heated, and I have a huge hot tub.”
As the women drove up the freeway, following Brent, Sahrina said, “Follow my lead. Question nothing.
”
“I’m good,” Andrea said.
Chapter 18
A Night to Analyze
I spent most of the day Saturday getting the house in order. Tip said he was going to talk to a few informants and insisted he didn’t need me. I fought him about it, but by noon I was glad I hadn’t gone. I’d forgotten how much work it took to get settled into a new place. One good thing about being here was that I could keep the sliding door open all day, allowing Hotshot free rein of the backyard. He had a ball chasing bugs and moths, and despite missing a leg, he managed to catch a few.
Late in the afternoon, about the time I was thinking of what to do for dinner, Tip called.
“Did you do any good?” I asked.
“Depends on how you look at it,” Tip said. “I found three concierges who swear they never laid eyes on her. I figured they were lying, so I checked with the bellhops, desk clerks, and even the valet attendants. Unless it was a damn big conspiracy, she didn’t ply her trade at those hotels.”
“Maybe she worked only the Four Seasons, which wouldn’t be bad if she was getting enough business,” I said. “But from what we saw of her room, it didn’t look like it.”
“Keep your thinking hat on and drive up to my place. I’ll cook dinner.”
“Partner, you’ve got a deal. I’m hungry.”
The drive to Tip’s place was familiar now, and that turned out to be a problem. Every landmark and every road reminded me of that sick pervert who had beaten me half to death.
And raped me, I thought, as I drove past the apartment complex where he’d attacked me. I turned my head away, but it was like the image of his sick, disgustingly handsome face had found a permanent place in my mind. Like a photograph that wouldn’t burn.
I shook my head and slowed the car. If I didn’t watch out, I’d soon be approaching Tip Denton speed. I got off the next exit and made my way to Tip’s driveway. It was the second time I’d been here since coming back, but I still half expected Kassie and Kelly to greet me…That was before I remembered helping Tip bury them, compliments of another sick son of a bitch—Carlos Cortes.
Bullet From Dominic Page 10
