Corrupting Alicia

by Tsoukalas, Evan

  “I’m aware that you and Christian didn’t see eye to eye on many things, so I’m sure that, outside of wondering about your future, his passing doesn’t bother you all that much. Accurate enough?”

  “Maybe,” he replied with a shrug, but his mind answered with an unequivocal “Yes.”

  “Your future is entirely up to you. My employer has assumed control of this operation, but you won’t be out of a job unless you become a problem. Are you a problem, DeShawn?”

  “Maybe,” he answered dryly and a tad nervously, I thought. “What are the terms?”

  “The terms are simple. There will be no major changes to the operation until things have settled. If word of Christian’s demise isn’t already circulating, it will very soon. That’s likely to make some people uneasy. That reluctance and unrest won’t be helped by further changes to the operation. People need to be convinced that this operation is fully functional and secure despite the takeover,” I stated, and I could tell by his expression that he agreed. The hatred in his eyes was dampened by his ambition, which could be either good or bad, depending on point of view.

  I chose to be optimistic.

  “Once we’ve agreed on certain rules, you will accompany me to meet your new employer. If you both reach an agreement, the operation will continue business-as-usual, and I will meet with Barrera to ensure that our supply line isn’t affected.”

  DeShawn raised an eyebrow at the mention of Christian’s primary supplier. It was not common knowledge, and Alicia hadn’t known his name. Luckily, DeShawn did.

  We were both silent as DeShawn considered his options, which he recognized as being quite limited. He decided to play along for now. “And the rules?”

  “Again, simple. You get Miguel and Niccolo to agree not to disclose any of this to anyone. How and when that information is disseminated will be determined by our employer. All three of you will agree not to make any effort to seize control of this operation or attempt to sabotage it in any way. Either such attempt will be dealt with swiftly and harshly. Our employer does not tolerate dissension.”

  “And just who is our new employer?” DeShawn asked matter-of-factly, as if the answer was inconsequential to him, though his mind fervently indicated otherwise.

  “I’m not permitted to disclose that information at this time, but I can say introductions will not be necessary.”

  “Interesting,” DeShawn replied, his mind checking off possible candidates on an extensive list in his head. The list did not include Alicia.

  “I have a car waiting for us, but before I cut you loose, we need to understand each other.” I fixed a hard look on him.

  DeShawn shrugged. “If I try anything, you kill me.”

  “No. If you become a problem, our next stop will be an apartment in Renton. Your daughter Keesha won’t enjoy meeting me.”

  “Motherfucker,” DeShawn growled, eyes bulging as he strained against his bonds. I let him struggle for a few moments before grabbing a fistful of the tie-wrap at the back of his neck and twisting my hand. DeShawn sputtered a few wet, choking sounds and his eyes bulged even more.

  When I released the pressure, he gagged a couple times before drawing a few ragged breaths. “This ain’t necessary,” he croaked.

  “Perhaps not, but trust must be earned, and we’re definitely not there yet.” I tightened my grip again, giving DeShawn another taste of suffocation.

  “Okay! Okay!” he gasped when I released the pressure. Satisfied with the panic in his voice, I directed a little mental heat at the plastic and then snapped the weakened section with my thumb and forefinger. I could have done it with strength alone, but DeShawn’s neck would probably have given out before the plastic.

  DeShawn’s head shot forward immediately in an attempt to sound the car’s horn, but I was ready, cupping my hand around the righthand side of his skull and smashing it into the driver’s side window. The window held, and DeShawn was a breath away from concussion.

  While he was dazed, I slipped out of the SUV and opened his door. I freed his hands from the steering wheel and hauled him from the vehicle before his eyes focused again.

  “That was stupid, DeShawn,” I admonished, slapping a hand to the nape of his neck.

  “Can’t blame a brother for tryin’,” he replied dazedly.

  “Actually, I can,” I stated, striking a body blow that sent him to his hands and knees on the sidewalk at my feet. DeShawn curled into a fetal position, gasping for a precious breath of air that was steadily eluding him.

  When his wheezing grew softer, I grabbed him by the nape and jerked him to his feet. I stuck my face into his, our noses all but touching as our gazes met like crossing swords. “Do you want your daughter’s life to end tonight?”

  DeShawn looked away. “No,” he mumbled, sufficiently cowed.

  “Then cut the shit,” I ordered, moving my hand to his shoulder and giving him a shake. He nodded.

  Pulling my phone with my free hand, I speed-dialed Jeffrey. “I’m three blocks north. Send the car,” I said. Jeffrey put me on hold to issue the instructions to the driver, and I saw the headlights approaching before he picked me up again.

  DeShawn said nothing as the car pulled up to the curb. The driver’s door opened, and a mountain of a man who barely fit into his suit got out to open our door. I waved him off, stifling a smile at the chauffeur hat sitting atop his block head like a party favor, canted slightly to the right.

  Opening the door myself, I pushed DeShawn into the car with enough force to send him sprawling ass-over-elbow down the center aisle of the stretched vehicle. A pointed look at the driver sent him back to the driver’s seat, and then I ducked into the car myself.

  As I shut the door behind me, the privacy screen slid upward and DeShawn struggled to right himself.

  9 takeover

  As the limousine rolled through the streets of Seattle, DeShawn said nothing. He cast venomous glances toward me every so often before returning his gaze to the window, trying to look nonchalant about his attempt to figure out where we were going. That he kept his wits about him was good, but it was ultimately fruitless. We were going to the Summerfield, and it didn’t really matter if he knew it, so I put down the privacy divider and informed the driver of our destination. DeShawn’s face show a bit of surprise, but he quickly concealed it.

  Dawn was a little more than three hours away, leaving plenty of time for me to drop off DeShawn, pick up Alicia, and have the meeting without concern that the rising sun might interrupt. Still, just to be safe, I had Jeffrey procure a single-use sun shelter for me in Seattle. I was pretty sure the extra precaution wasn’t necessary, but it is always better to give possible adversaries more credit than they deserve. Waste is bad, but unpleasant surprises are worse, and as I have said before, even I don’t fuck around with the sun.

  As we rode, I sent a text message to Jeffrey, instructing him to set up a suite at the Summerfield under the name of James Lazarus, one of my throwaway aliases. After tonight, James would disappear, never to be heard from again. Once Jeffrey confirmed, I deleted all text messages and put away my phone. DeShawn watched me with interest, but said nothing, and I was fine with that.

  I lifted my mental voice and called out for Martin Chambers, a fairly young revenant who owed me his life (about the only thing in this world that he cherished) and called Seattle his home. He’d made the mistake of getting territorial on me a few years ago, and I spared his life because having a revenant ally close to my Port Townsend home seemed like a good idea. I couldn’t trust him with Alicia, but I could trust him with most things.

  Jason, he replied instantly. Long time no hear. How’s it hanging?

  Same shit, piled higher, I answered.

  What can I do for you? he asked, right to business, which was one of the things I liked about him. Martin was one of the few revenants who thought life was too short for conversation.

  I need a favor, Martin. Should take a few hours. Busy?

  Nothing that can’t be
rescheduled, he answered, his curiosity piqued.

  Blonde? I asked, a smile in my voice.

  Two, he replied with a chuckle. But they’ll be around tomorrow.

  I need you to keep an eye on someone for me. A mortal.

  In my mind’s eye, I could see the double-take. A mortal?

  Long story, I replied, my tone brooking no further questions.

  Okay, okay, he said quickly, jumping back from the line before he could cross it. Where and when?

  Ten minutes. The Summerfield. Dress sharply.

  I always dress sharply, he replied defensively.

  Right. Have some breakfast on the way. When we arrive, say nothing. If I speak to you, nod your head. Don’t use my name at any time, and if you need to give a name for any reason, use Mr. Jones.

  How cloak and dagger, Martin murmured in reply. I severed our link without another word. Being abrupt with Martin was a not-so-subtle way of saying that I wanted no static from him.

  When the limo pulled up to the curb at the Summerfield, I could see Martin talking to the doorman who, resplendent in an immaculate uniform complete sans cheesy hat, immediately excused himself from their conversation and opened the back door of the limo. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said crisply as DeShawn and I disembarked. “Welcome to the Summerfield.”

  “Thank you,” I said congenially, handing the man a hundred-dollar bill. “Inform the driver that he may leave,” I ordered, and the doorman smiled and walked toward the driver, who stood beside the open driver’s door. The two conversed for a moment before the driver got back into the limousine and pulled away with a gun of the engine and a slight squeal of tires.

  Sending the limo away was calculated artifice. Obviously, I didn’t need the limo to retrieve Alicia, but DeShawn didn’t know that, and I wanted him to assume that she was nearby. He did, going so far as to think his new employer was waiting for him in the hotel. Bad assumption. No one in Alicia’s position would wait on a subordinate.

  I stepped up to Martin without speaking, and DeShawn followed behind me. Martin nodded at me, and I nodded back, turning to DeShawn.

  “Go to the desk and ask for the key to the Presidential Suite. They’ve been instructed not to ask any questions, and you’re instructed to do the same. My associate will keep you company until our employer arrives.” DeShawn made a move to object, alarm clear on his face. His first thought was that he was about to be executed, regardless of what had been said up to this point, and his paranoia actually increased my opinion of him. I held up my hand swiftly, silencing him. “Go to the room, have a drink and relax. We’ll be with you shortly,” I continued, my tone gentle, but it was clear that DeShawn should obey without question.

  DeShawn looked back and forth between me and Martin for a few moments and then shrugged, walking toward the entrance. Martin shot me a quizzical look, and I moved in close, gripping his arm. “Say nothing to him. If he talks, ignore him, and if he keeps talking, tell him to close his mouth. Don’t let him leave, don’t leave him alone, don’t let him use the phone, and don’t hurt him, either.” Martin nodded, the traces of a smile indicating his amusement at my instructions, and then he moved to follow DeShawn. “And Martin?” Martin looked over his shoulder without halting his progress toward the door. “No snacks.”

  ◆◆◆

  Ten minutes later, I was at the slider to my house. As it opened, I stepped in, seeing Alicia in the chair, nervously picking lint off the fabric. Her face lit up when she saw me, and she rushed me, barreling into my welcoming arms. I kissed her thoroughly, and then stepped back to survey her appearance. She reveled in my assessing gaze and did a quick pirouette.

  She was dressed in an expensive pantsuit, her luggage having arrived from the Summerfield yesterday, and her hair was pulled back severely in a bun. She wore no makeup, and an expensive pair of high-heeled sandals completed the outfit. She looked all business, but I still had a hard-on that could have shattered concrete.

  I quickly gave her the abridged version of DeShawn’s capture, and she concentrated on my words, absorbing the story and asking detailed questions. Less than twenty minutes later, she was satisfied with her debriefing, and pleased with my success. I could tell during our conversation that she had let go of her Christian baggage, and I commented on it.

  “Killing him helped a little, but it had more to do with you,” she admitted softly.

  I smiled, warmed by her compliment, not needing any further explanation. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded, moving to retrieve the submachine gun from the floor, where it lay next to the chair. Slipping the sling over her left shoulder, she tucked the weapon to her side, barrel toward the floor, and donned her long leather coat.

  The flight to the Summerfield was swift, and I savored the feel of her pressed against me, my heart twinging a little when I had to release her. We entered the main entrance, the doorman nodding at me in recognition, and proceeded up to the room.

  I paused outside the door to the suite, talking to Martin mind-to-mind. Any trouble? I asked.

  Not really. He’s not too happy with me. He wanted to make a phone call, and to make a point, I tore the phone out of the wall and smashed it to bits. He got the message.

  Good work, Martin, I replied. I have a mortal woman with me. Do not attempt to read her thoughts and do not speak to her unless directly spoken to. Whatever she asks, do it without question. Understand?

  Martin grumbled a bit, not really keen on the idea of taking orders from a mortal. I let him hesitate for a few moments before I prompted him for an answer, my mental tone bearing a slight edge that he would pick up on immediately. Martin...

  Martin sighed, surrendering to inevitability. Only for you, Jason.

  You’re so kind, Martin, I answered dryly. Make a show of looking at the time and then open the door.

  I didn’t trust Martin to obey me about staying out of Alicia’s mind, so I extended my shield and enveloped both our minds. This psychic exercise linked our minds completely, our thoughts flowing unchecked one to the other, and Alicia felt it immediately. Her mind instantly churned with the rush of my thoughts, and I segmented her off to cut down on the confusion.

  Her eyes began to clear just as I heard Martin’s footsteps approach. With a mental gesture that she processed instantly, I willed Alicia to get behind me. She had just complied when the door swung open, and Martin’s tongue almost fell out of his head as he caught his first glimpse of her. Jealousy shot through me like electricity, and I lifted my lips, fangs extended, eyes full of warning.

  The effect of my menacing reaction was twofold and immediate: fear and compliance. Martin’s tongue rolled back up like a window shade that was rolled too tightly as he waved his hands in front of him to ward me off. I gestured for him to precede us into the room, and he did. Alicia and I followed a few steps behind.

  DeShawn was pacing back and forth in front of one of the windows. His posture was angry, his shoulders hunched and his fists clenched. His mind was muttering curses, and most of them were things he would do to me if given the chance. I smiled briefly. Under different circumstances, nothing would please me more than to let him try... and fail. I gestured for Martin to take up position to the right of the couch, and he complied.

  “Hello, DeShawn,” Alicia said calmly as she stepped into the room, projecting a cool, detached, and authoritative air that immediately permeated the large space. Her voice instantly halted DeShawn’s pacing, and he whirled to face her, mouth open to its limits and eyes about to pop from his head.

  “Alicia???” he gasped, blinking several times and shaking his head in bewilderment. “Chris said you were dead!”

  Alicia threw her head back and laughed. “Of course he did. As you can plainly see, he got it backwards,” she muttered, her voice shaking off all laughter on the second sentence and becoming deadly cold. She walked to the couch with a posture that screamed regal bearing, head held high and shoulders back. DeShawn couldn’t tear his eyes off her as she m
oved, and long after she sat down, he was still trying to reconcile the fact that she was still breathing.

  I moved to the side closest to her, directing Martin into position as the couch’s other bookend. “Sit, DeShawn,” Alicia ordered evenly, crossing her legs and gesturing toward the couch facing her. DeShawn was too stunned to comply, and Alicia cast a meaningful glance my way.

  I took a step toward DeShawn, my face stony, and the threat of me broke him from his paralysis. He just about ran to the indicated piece of furniture and threw himself into it as if it were a safe haven. I resumed my former position.

  “I’m sure tonight has been a shock for you. Take a moment to compose yourself,” Alicia said, her voice calm and quietly commanding. While she spoke, she unbuttoned her coat and then opened it with a precise, calculated movement that immediately brought DeShawn’s eyes to the submachine gun resting beneath, effectively letting him know that Martin and I weren’t the only threats in the room.

  A spectacular move. Message received.

  After a few glances back and forth between Alicia and the weapon, DeShawn took his moment, tearing his eyes away from the MP5, rubbing his hands over his face, and shaking his head. Then he did something most peculiar: he let out a hearty laugh. Martin and I glanced at one another, and then I glanced at Alicia, who wasn’t the least bit surprised by his reaction.

  “Fucking Chris,” DeShawn said, clapping his hands together once before looking directly at Alicia. “Never did know when to be afraid or who to be afraid of. Gotta admit you fooled me, too.” He laughed some more, and Alicia let him savor his jubilation. When his laughter trailed off, his face got serious, and he was ready for business. “So you the new boss, huh?”

  “I am,” Alicia replied with a nod. “You have a problem with that?”

  “Me? Shit no! I always liked you better’n him anyway.”

  “And Niccolo and Miguel?” Alicia inquired, and I was once again impressed by her absolute composure. She was made for this.