“You’re really a good person, Roman. I mean it,” Janie added softly. “It’s been a long time since a man’s done anything for me without wanting something in return.”
“Let’s not talk about that.” He knew she’d pulled herself up from poverty; he also knew she hadn’t always been particular about the methods she used.
She smiled, liking that he preferred not seeing the skeletons in her closet. More important, she liked that he didn’t want something from her. “Do you think we could stay here in the country for a while at least? It’s sort of like a little bit of paradise: strife-free, laid back, away from everything icky.”
He laughed, understanding the ickiness of the world better than most. “Sure, why not. Let me make a few calls, and when Matt wakes up, we’ll take him somewhere fun. There has to be a park or something around here.”
When he said really sweet things like that, she found herself beginning to feel something way beyond gratitude. Or maybe it was just that anyone who was good to Matt touched her heart. Leo had never actually played with his son. He’d just hired nannies and tutors, clowns and pony rides on birthdays. Roman’s kindness to Matt was profoundly moving.
Although on a purely selfish level, Roman was also a major turn-on sexually. Like he was enormous and after being with Leo, she was dying for a big, husky man who could last.
And could Roman last.
Really, a holiday in the country was just what she needed.
On several levels.
All of them sure to prove highly satisfying.
Twenty-two
Leo strode through Ben’s office in an obvious hurry. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day,” he snapped. “And I won’t be taking messages.”
The outer door slammed behind him, and Ben Connor leaned back in his chair and murmured an explosive, “God damn!”
The phone conversation he’d just overheard made him decide to get his financial ducks in a row. Like cashing in his stock in Leo’s companies, for starters. Janie wasn’t going to go down without a knock-down, drag-out fight. And from what he’d just heard, it wasn’t entirely clear who might win.
Unless Leo recovered that flash drive, he was screwed. Royally.
If Leo was sensible, he’d give Janie a generous settlement, get the flash drive back, and get on with his life. But knowing his boss, Ben didn’t think that was likely.
For one thing, Leo wasn’t rational.
For another, he didn’t like to lose.
Ever.
The detritus in terms of human misery and looted companies Leo had left in his wake were testament to his ruthlessness. Which thought prompted Ben to make sure he didn’t join that woeful debris. Flipping through his Rolodex, he dialed his broker. That Cal was also his ex-college roommate was reassuring. The kind of divestiture he was planning might raise questions with anyone other than a trusted friend. He’d give Cal enough information so he understood that Leo might be going through an expensive divorce. The real story would have to wait until such a time as Leo was indicted, and if that never happened, so much the better for his own long-term plans.
Ben had always understood that he wasn’t working for a saint. Not that saints were much in evidence in corporate America. The camel-through-the-eye-of-a-needle thing that had been around for a couple thousand years, a case in point. “Cal-Ben here. How’re you doing? I’m good- good. Yeah, yeah, still hanging in there. I’m chasing down the record. Yeah, no shit. Anyway, I have some trades I’d like you to handle. I want to move some of my portfolio to safer ground. Cash maybe-no, I’m not skipping the country. I’m just in a cautious mood.”
Twenty-three
While Ben Connor was seeing that his financial security wouldn’t suffer because of his boss’s malfeasance, Leo was driving through the Lincoln Tunnel heading for Jersey.
Due to the confidential nature of his upcoming meeting, Leo had dispensed with his driver. He was also using a nondescript sedan for the same reason. Being inconspicuous was essential.
The neighborhood restaurant he walked into some forty minutes later had just opened for the day; the waiters were setting up for lunch. The manager behind the cash register acknowledged him with the merest nod, then pointed to a table at the rear of the room where two men were seated.
When Leo sat down, the younger of the two men silently rose and walked away.
“What can I do for you, Leo? It’s been a while.” The well-dressed, older man with manicured nails, close-cropped gray hair, and a Florida tan smiled faintly. “I was thinking you might have found new facilitators.”
Leo shook his head. “Everything’s been running smoothly-at least up until now. I haven’t needed your services. By the way, thanks for your prompt response. I appreciate it.”
“You sounded as though you needed something in a hurry.”
“I do. The usual terms?”
“The same. Cash. Untraceable. We’ll pick it up.”
“My wife just left with my son. I want him back.”
“Sorry. We don’t mess with women or children.”
“I know, I know. I’ll deal with that myself. What I need from you is a little something she took with her when she left-a flash drive from my personal computer. She copied all my files. I need that flash drive back. And I need it quickly.”
“That’s why I don’t like computers. Nothing’s safe,” the man grumbled. “With all these crazy kid hackers or the feds sticking their noses in everyone’s business, better an accountant or tax attorney you can trust.”
Leo frowned. Far be it for him to argue with a man whose operation was still essentially brown-bagging it; international banking was slightly more complicated. “My computer files are more personal than anything else,” he lied. “But still, I wouldn’t want her to sell them to the highest bidder.”
The gray-haired man grinned. “She got your Bangkok pictures?”
“She has a little bit of everything, I’m afraid.” Another lie, not that it mattered with either one of them. “Can you help me out or not?”
Leo’s facilitator flicked his manicured fingers in a dismissive gesture. “Of course. Where do we pick up this flash drive?”
“In Minnesota. But I don’t want my son frightened. So no rough stuff-just a quick snatch and run.”
“Look, no offense, but I doubt your wife is going to just hand it over.”
“I know. Work it out any way you have to. Just so no one lays a hand on Matt, and I’m fine. Understood?”
“We’re businessmen just like you, Leo. We don’t get physical. People understand they’re better off cooperating with us. It’s that simple.”
Leo nodded. “Good. Perfect. You always come through, Carmine. I appreciate it. Here’s the address. Let me know when you want me to pick up my package and where you want your payment delivered. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”
“Likewise.”
As Leo left the restaurant, the man at the table watched him, a smirk on his face. Dumb fuck, he thought. Why does the stupid shit keep marrying the broads?
Twenty-four
“Leo, darling, I hate to see you so upset.” Hannah Reiss glanced at herself in the mirrored wall opposite her. Thank God she looked good, even in this terrible light in this horrid dive that Leo insisted had the best steaks in town. “Not that you don’t have every right,” she added, taking pains to make her voice softly sincere. “For that woman to take your son from you is… really… criminal. ”
“Damn right it is. But she’ll get hers,” Leo grunted, flicking a glance upward from his twenty-two-ounce steak. “You’re not eating. Don’t you like your steak?”
Good God, would the man not talk with his mouth full? She forced a smile. “I love my steak, darling, but we had cake and ice cream for Chelsea’s birthday just before I left work. Do you remember Chelsea? She’s in accounting.”
“The fat broad with no tits?”
“She’s not exactly what you’d call fat, dear.”
“Fuck i
f she isn’t. But Jeff tells me she’s practically a human calculator. So she stays, fat or not.”
Now, Hannah Reiss had spent her entire life doing her own kind of calculating. In her case, it had entailed selecting the right friends in high school, the right extracurricular community activities, such as reading to the blind, volunteering at the local hospital, driving elderly people to church on Sunday. (It wasn’t her fault the nursing home van had stopped running and some of her passengers had passed out in the hundred-degree heat; the girl at Baskin-Robbins should have made her banana split faster. But her father had taken care of that little imbroglio, and really, what was all the fuss about? No one had actually died.) So with her high school record pristine thanks to her daddy’s intervention, college admission officials were duly impressed, and she was accepted at the right college where she took the right classes (preferably where professors gave grades for sex), and graduated magna cum laude. After graduation, she applied at companies with the best potential for advancement. That Leo Rolf was known for his roving eye figured, if not exclusively, pertinently in her decision to take an entry-level job at Rolf Enterprises for a lesser salary than she would have liked.
Now, if she could continue to stomach Leo’s numerous vulgarities, her life would proceed very much as she’d planned. She would become wife number five… and if Leo happened to keel over during sex in the not too distant future, she would gladly become a rich young widow. “You know, I think I’ll take this delicious steak home and enjoy it later,” she said sweetly. Or flush it down the garbage disposal.
“Want another martini?” Rolf snapped his fingers at the waiter. “They make the best martinis here. Just a smell of vermouth-that’s the secret. We’ll take two more,” he brusquely said at the young waiter’s approach. “And bring the bread pudding while you’re at it-lots of whipped cream. I don’t want a couple little dabs. Okay?”
With barely concealed loathing, the waiter said, “Yes, sir. Lots of whipped cream it is.” The waitstaff always drew straws for Leo Rolf. No one wanted to serve him.
“And coffee,” Leo barked. “A big cup. None of that sissy demitasse shit. Lots of sugar, too!”
The clientele in the hundred-year-old steakhouse was, like Leo, not here for ambience or a fusion menu. Only a few patrons even glanced up at Leo’s shouted orders. They were here for meat and martinis, and Murphy’s Steakhouse delivered. Everything else was an afterthought.
“I never get tired of Murphy’s,” Leo murmured, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “A steak and a martini.” He winked at Hannah. “And a piece of ass afterward. Hell, life doesn’t get much better.”
Maybe she could slowly poison his martinis, Hannah thought, not sure she could manage a lengthy sojourn as wife to this boorish lout. “I enjoy your company, too, Leo. You’re just as charming as everyone always says.”
“They say that?” he grunted, picking his teeth with a toothpick.
“Of course, darling. You’re universally known for your charming manner,” she went on, doing her best to overlook the dribble of spit sliding down his chin. “You put people at ease,” she went on gamely. “You can talk to anyone on any subject” (as long as it’s about him-or him-or, for a change, him). “Dex said the other day that you’re the smartest man he’s ever met.”
“I’ve done okay for myself, I guess,” Leo said smugly, setting the toothpick on his plate and wiping his mouth with his napkin.
Thank God for small favors. He’d used his napkin instead of the back of his hand. “You’ve done more than okay, darling,” Hannah said, feeling as though she would be pushing a huge rock uphill until this evening ended. “You’re at the absolute top of your game. No one knows how to make things happen when it comes to deal-making better than you.”
“Speaking of making things happen. You look sexy as hell in that hot-pink suit. You’re gonna have to take that off for me real soon.”
She always cringed at the thought of having sex with him. When he took off his clothes, he was hideously wrinkled and flabby, despite his personal trainer. And if he lasted thirty seconds before he came, it was practically a record. The flip side and the only side that mattered, however, was that he was fabulously wealthy. “I’m tingly just thinking about it,” she murmured, offering him the tantalizing smile she’d been practicing before the mirror since high school. “And for your information,” she purred, “my lingerie is hot-pink, too.”
“To go with your hot cunt,” he said with a leer just as the waiter returned with their martinis.
Having seen his share of rich old men with beautiful young women, the waiter didn’t so much as blink as he set the glasses on the table. “Coffee and dessert will be up shortly, sir.”
“Here’s to us, babe,” Leo cheerfully said, ignoring the waiter and lifting his martini glass to Hannah. “And to the rest of the evening.”
Hannah smiled and raised her glass. “You don’t know how much I’m looking forward to it, darling.”
And to the day that lovely pink diamond engagement ring she’d seen at Tiffany’s was slipped on her finger.
As for her sex life, those bodyguards Leo had just hired might be willing to do a few things for her as well. A little extra overtime on the side, as it were. Leo always immediately fell asleep after he climaxed, leaving her totally unsatisfied.
And dying to get off.
She stole a glance at the next table, where the two buff young bodyguards were seated, all stern-faced and alert, scanning the room just like those CIA men did in movies. Really, the one closest to them could have been a model, he was so handsome. He reminded her a little of those Abercrombie & Fitch boys, only he was clearly a man.
What would he do if she brushed up against him in the elevator?
Better yet, why didn’t she invite them both into her bed some night when Leo was dead to the world?
That delicious thought kept a smile on her face for the remainder of the meal, and when she accidently tripped getting into the car outside the restaurant, she made sure Mr. Abercrombie was standing close enough to catch her.
She smiled as he helped her into the car a moment later. “Thank you. I must have drunk more than I thought,” she said, squeezing his hand in what could have been simple gratitude.
“Not a problem, miss. Anytime.”
His middle finger slid over her palm. There was no doubt. “How polite you are,” she murmured, taking her seat, a little jolt of lust warming her senses.
“Yes, miss.” He released her hand and stepped back.
Had she been mistaken? Was it simply a meaningless stroke of his hand?
“If you ever need anything, miss, Bo and I are here to serve you.”
“Thank you. Leo, your bodyguards are the most polite young men,” she said, turning her smile on Leo as the two men moved to take their seats in the front of the limo. “What agency sent them?”
“Fuck if I know. Ask Ben. He takes care of that shit.” Leo rubbed his stomach and grimaced. “I shouldn’t have had that third martini. I’m going to call it a night, babe. Sorry, but you’re going to have to wait to get laid.” Leaning forward, he tapped on the glass behind his driver’s head. “Take me home, Tommie, and then take the lady home.” Falling back against the seat, he muttered, “Maybe it’s all the stress with my bitch wife. Chriiist. As if I don’t have enough on my plate without having to chase her down.”
“Poor dear,” Hannah murmured, stroking Leo’s arm. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know. I feel just terrible for you.”
“Thanks, babe. It’s all in the bag though. Soon the problem will be solved.”
“To your satisfaction, I hope.” Janie’s rather sordid background had always made her a complete unknown to Hannah. Unpredictable. Impossible to read. Even harder to understand.
“Of course to my satisfaction,” Leo said with a snort. “Is there any other way?”
Twenty-five
While Hannah Reiss was trying to p
lay all her cards right and possibly score with Leo’s bodyguards in the bargain, those seated at Liv’s kitchen table were enjoying another fabulous dinner, compliments of Jake Chambers.
Matt was eating his second chocolate chip cookie, while the adults were sipping chilled coffee and Kahlua with a dollop of whipped cream much superior to that served at Murphy’s Steakhouse.
Roman, Janie, and Matt had spent the day at the beach. Liv and Jake had spent the day in bed until such a time as extreme hunger forced them to rise. After a quick trip to the local co-op grocery store, Jake made Southern fried pickle spears for an appetizer; a baby beet, heirloom tomato, and fig salad; and pulled pork with barbecue sauce served on homemade focaccia bread.
Everyone was stuffed, content, and practically speechless from a sense of well-being. The warm summer evening insinuated itself into the kitchen through the open windows and door, while the frogs and crickets sang their nightly chorus.
“You’re sunburned,” Liv murmured, only half-lifting her hand in Janie’s direction, overcome as she was with balmy lethargy.
“That’s a great beach so close to your house, and I’m just a little pink. It’s nothing,” Janie airily added, smiling up at Roman. “We’re going back tomorrow, aren’t we?”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
The blatant absurdity between Roman’s formidable seen-it-all detective persona and his quiet acquiescence made Liv smile. She turned to Jake and sportively asked, “Why aren’t you so amenable?”
Wine, Tarts & Sex Page 15
