*****
That night, the casino was buzzing. Martin’s veins were pumped with enough drugs to blot out his worries. He was the king of the mountain, and he couldn’t lose. For a while, he was on a roll, but didn’t cash in his chips. There was more to be won.
Then Chen strolled up to the table, ruining the evening. Tattoos covered both his arms like sleeves, and his biceps flexed when he leaned on the table to speak into Martin’s ear. “I need to see you alone.”
What a depressing thought. It brought reality crashing back. Even if Martin kept winning that night, it wouldn’t be nearly enough. And it was unlikely the mobsters would let him off the hook, debt or not. He’d made the agreement with them, and wouldn’t allow him to bow out.
In a secluded alcove, Chen confronted him. “You’re out there gambling like you don’t have a care in the world. You’d better snap to, because there’s no room for error.”
The drugs and alcohol had taken control, and Martin spoke without considering his words. “How in the hell can I make sure there’s no errors if you guys blow it for me? If you keep hiring misfits to do your dirty work, we’re all going to be in a world of hurt. I’m not sure I should continue with this fiasco.”
With a meaty fist, Chen slammed Martin against the wall, his black eyes blazing. “Oh, you’ll continue.” He stabbed his other finger at him. “Let me tell you a story…”
He released Martin, but didn’t step back.
The tale was sobering. Chen told of the vindictiveness of the Asian mob, widely known as the Triad. The story was of a reporter who’d had the gall to publish an article that regaled their activities in vivid glory. Far from being flattered, the gang leader back home had ordered retribution.
Meat cleavers were weapons that were not soon forgotten. As the story went, the reporter lived to tell another tale—minus his fingers on both hands. Martin shuddered. “I’ve heard enough.”
Chen was in his face. “So, you’ll continue, my friend…or we’ll go after your family and carve them up, one by one.” Martin choked on the man’s stale breath. “And then…we’ll come after you.”
*****
The next day, Martin met with a representative who was used to doing business with the mob. He hired out boats used for drug smuggling. It could be arranged for a healthy fee, and Martin paid with company funds. He’d taken care to meet surreptitiously, and hoped to God that no one saw him.
He’d worried unnecessarily, or so he attempted to convince himself. The meeting took place at a restaurant, some dive not far from the docks. The guy was dressed in boating garb, complete with deck shoes, and looked exceedingly normal. No one would have suspected his true intent. For all appearances, he was there to set up a pleasure cruise.
Money changed hands as it was supposed to, and the man politely assured Martin that the boat would be there on schedule. Despite the pretense of normalcy, the encounter unnerved him. Martin had personally hired a boat with its captain for the sole purpose of smuggling.
He’d committed a crime, and not a white-collar crime for which he’d be slapped on the wrist and told to reform. The DEA wouldn’t look the other way about drug running. Martin would have nightmares about getting caught. With the way this whole business was going, the FBI and even Homeland Security would probably be after him.
What had seemed like an advantageous arrangement had turned out to be a trap. Regret seized Martin’s chest, and a wave of nausea washed through his belly. Drug smuggling was an activity that might drag him to the depths, where it seemed he was already headed. Like a horror story, events unfolded before his eyes, and he was unable to stop before it was too late.
To listen to his new pals, Chen and Zhang, smuggling was purely business. The mob took what they wanted and dared anyone to challenge their authority. It was one more day in a life of crime, yet it certainly didn’t seem that way to Martin. Stepping off a cliff, and plummeting to his death, was a more accurate description of the sensation that riddled his body.
*****
On a dark evening later that week, Martin made a trip out to the Port of New York. He wore all black clothing, with a knit cap and sunglasses, his best attempt at disguise. It wasn’t likely any business connections or family friends would cruise the harbor in the dead of night—but he was in a cautious mood.
The momentous event drew ever closer, circumstances constricting around Martin like a snake intending to wrap tighter until it crushed the life out of him. When he arrived, Chen was already there with a couple of other thugs. Martin approached, and the guards stayed in the shadows. If their presence was to intimidate him, it worked.
Martin walked over to Chen. Together they gazed out at the black expanse of ocean. Somewhere out there, a container ship approached. It would be there by morning, just before dawn, to make the delivery. The ship carried cargo of all sorts, transported in containers to be unloaded at the dock.
For some reason, Chen had insisted on a final meeting. It wasn’t like Martin hadn’t gotten the message. Once the drop had been set up, it went through, or somebody died. It wasn’t that hard to understand, and repeating it wasn’t necessary.
Chen stuffed his hands in his pockets, taking a casual stance as if chatting with a friend. “You have confidence that your ship will be on time?”
“I checked the schedule. There’s no reason to think otherwise.”
“And the speedboat? It’s arranged?”
“I paid enough, it damn well better show up.” Martin glared at the mobster. “Besides, you assured me you’d worked with the company before and the service could be relied on.”
“I set you up with the best, but the outcome is on your shoulders.”
“Yeah, I don’t need to be told.” There wasn’t much else Martin could do. He’d set things in motion, and the only thing to do was wait. He had no experience with this kind of thing; he was out of his depth. He prayed there wouldn’t be a screw-up.
Chen patted him on the back and flagged his men, then disappeared into the night.
Martin shivered and wrapped his scarf tighter. He stepped to the edge of the water, and looked out. He understood what was about to take place, knew each step by heart. The Foster International ship would slow to a crawl, well before entering the main harbor.
One of Zhang’s men was on board, undercover as a crew member. He’d blow the horn at the right moment, signaling the speedboat. The boat captain would navigate out to the ship and retrieve the package. It would be a special bag with the drug shipment.
The term that Chen used for the maneuver was fly-by. It was a standard maneuver where the shipping line would have the ship swoop closer to shore than it was supposed to, blare the horn, then sail on. The guy in the speedboat would zoom out to where the ship had been and pick up a floating bag full of drugs.
Martin didn’t want to know what was in there. It could be marijuana, heroin, or another drug, depending on where the ship had come from. In this case, it had come from Hong Kong. Already, Martin knew more than he wanted to.
He preferred to take drugs, not handle smuggling them into the country. Chen had bragged about how easy it was, and so it seemed. Sure, it was simple, provided the authorities didn’t catch on—then it would be a disaster. Another contact, a professor at a well-respected university, was the distribution point for an affluent area around the school. Chen hadn’t shared his name, which was just as well. As university staff, the man was beyond reproach, the last person who would be suspected. It was all so clever.
Yet Martin felt as though he stood beneath bright lights, as if any moment the cops would scream up to the dock, sirens blaring, and arrest him. He wasn’t cut out for this sort of stuff. He trudged away from the water, hoping the cab he’d paid to wait for him was still a few blocks up. He wasn’t anxious to scare up another one, since cabbies didn’t tend to hang out at the harbor.
Fortunately, his driver had waited, and when he spotted his fare striding toward the vehicle, he turned on the headlights.
Once in the back seat, Martin asked to be taken home. All he wanted was to lock his door and curl up in bed, praying that he’d sleep until the drop had been executed. Yet he feared he’d pace the floor most of the night instead.
Desperation clawed at Martin. He was on his own, beholden to a ruthless group who placed zero value on his life. His wife wasn’t at home to comfort him, or to tell him that she’d be there, no matter what happened. And the childless marriage had left him utterly alone when they’d split up.
Leila would be more inclined to side with the mob. After the cutthroat divorce, there was no love left. She tolerated him at best. After pleading with him to reform, she’d given up. What would she say if she knew of the situation he found himself in now?
Over the years, his brother had tended to side with him, due to brotherly love and all. Yet Stephen was incapacitated and locked away, of no use to Martin. Given the opportunity, his brother wouldn’t have supported such a sordid affair anyway.
Beth’s life was in peril, and the first person the law would pursue if anything happened to her was Martin. However innocently, she’d made sure of that with her stupid journals and satirical cartoon sketches. If she met with an early demise, there would be a lot of questions.
Yet there was no going back. Martin was immersed in events no longer under his power to control, and he was unable to extricate himself from the underworld, even if he wanted to. It was too late for that.
Plus there was no other option for wiping out his debt to the mob. He had nowhere else to obtain the funds. On the bright side, it wouldn’t be long before he was in the black again. Then he’d see some real profits and his future would look much different.
Martin would be able to stop the bleeding of his finances, patch up the debacle of his life, and regain his respectable status. With Foster International at his disposal, a limitless supply of drugs could enter the country, greatly benefiting him.
It was all going to work out, once he got past this rough patch.
The driver dropped Martin in front of the mansion, and he paid with a generous tip. His cash was dwindling, but it wouldn’t be long before he was back on his feet again. Once inside, Martin flipped on some low lights and turned on music.
He shed the black garb, then put on sweatpants and a shirt to settle in for the night. He sloshed a thimble of bourbon into a glass and gulped it. The burn in his throat relieved some of the tension, but not nearly enough.
From a wall safe, Martin retrieved his stash. With the doors locked, he settled into a padded chair and sprinkled the cocaine on the glass coffee table. He snorted, maybe a little extra, then leaned back. That was much better. His heart sped up, and his outlook instantly improved.
Martin refilled the bourbon and settled back into the chair. Sometime later, he woke up on the bathroom floor without a clue how he got there. He must have passed out. Nausea gripped him, and he hurled into the toilet. Then he rolled back onto the floor, the cool tile soothing his aching head. He’d lost track of time, and honestly, he didn’t really care.
Chapter 10
Beth wasn’t used to having a man around all the time, even if he was her bodyguard. She had difficulty relegating him to that duty. Although she had her separate suite and plenty of privacy, more often than not Wyatt was with her.
She’d seen him first thing in the morning with scruff on his chin, and hanging around in jeans with a t-shirt, showing off his chiseled physique. Wyatt had strong thighs and a nice butt, not that she stared. But it was impossible not to notice.
When they stayed in, Wyatt was more than happy to cook, and Beth had even tried her hand at scrambled eggs for breakfast this morning. She’d added some secret ingredients to make them especially fluffy and tasty, and Wyatt commended her for her effort.
Beth sat across from him at the dining table near the spiral staircase. The slate-gray table sat on a wool carpet over the wooden floor, providing a warm feel. She sprinkled some pepper on her eggs and stole a glance at the beautiful male specimen, so close she could touch him.
And she wanted to touch him. By some miracle, Beth had held back, but in such close quarters the temptation was great. She wondered how Wyatt fared under the circumstances, not that he’d come right out and said he was attracted to her.
But a woman can feel things, and Beth’s intuition told her the chemistry was mutual. Wyatt was all male, and her hormones were going wild. It was terribly inconvenient, because danger loomed and Wyatt wasn’t dating her, just protecting her. Why was that so damn sexy?
Wyatt leaned on the table, his biceps flexing with the motion. Beth shifted in her seat. He was fresh from the shower, and his damp hair dusted his neck. He smelled of soap and cologne, making her breathe deeply of his maleness.
When Wyatt’s dark brown eyes met hers, Beth glanced away. She didn’t know how much self-control she possessed. “I’m surprised you agreed to let me go shopping today without you.”
“It’s not as though you won’t be guarded. After all, my sister is a criminal lawyer, and, as such, makes enemies. She guarantees that the firm’s security is top notch.”
“And you believed her?”
“No, I had Travis check it out. He did backgrounds on the guys that will be with you ladies today, and they check out. With his stamp of approval, I’ll deliver you into their hands, but only for a few hours.”
“You’re the one who coerced me into going to the wedding. I don’t have anything to wear. Jessica offered to assist, and that requires shopping.”
“I’ll be meeting with the team anyway. They arrive later, so I’ll connect up with them at the hotel,” Wyatt said.
“Who’s coming?”
“It’s a good turnout, as a show of support. Travis will have the honor of giving away the bride; his wife and daughters will be at the wedding with him.” Apparently noticing Beth’s expression, he paused. “Marlene’s father died in battle.”
“Oh, I see,” Beth said, moved by the situation.
“Cooper will be the best man. Rip broke down and rented a suit for the occasion.” Wyatt pushed his plate away and tipped back in the chair. “Even Tessa is coming.”
“I like her,” Beth said, admiring the camaraderie of the group. She doubted that she could get more than two people together, even for her birthday. A wedding would be a sad affair. “You’re lucky to have such friends.”
Wyatt’s expression was kind. “You’ll fit right in. You already met most of the team out in LA.”
“True, but not at a social event.”
“Garrett and I go way back, went on plenty of missions together. When he got out of the service, I hooked him up with Stealth. He was looking for a career, and Travis has put together a tight group.”
Beth studied Wyatt, his face lightly tanned, with a few lines of maturity. She thought of what he must have experienced when on deployment, but it was probably best not to ask. There was wisdom in his face, goodness in his eyes that reflected character.
“If everyone is here, who will run the office and take care of clients?”
“Travis has staffed well; there’s a pretty large crew overall, and he left Hunter Davis in charge. You haven’t met him, but he’s loyal and can be trusted.”
Beth sipped her orange juice then grinned.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Oh, just that with that many former SEALs present, the wedding is likely the safest place for me.”
“You got that right.”
Beth looked forward to meeting the bride and groom, plus seeing the others again. She’d do her best to fit in, but was nervous. Weddings were so formal, and this was a movie star wedding, as well. Wyatt didn’t seem bothered about it, so she’d try to assume his relaxed attitude.
*****
Jessica Mercer lived in a condo in East Village, conveniently located to the firm in the financial district where she practiced law. Beth had been there before, since she’d had a friendly relationship with Wyatt’s sister for a long time.
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br /> When not tied up at work, Jessica was usually game for shopping and lunch. She was like the sister that Beth hadn’t had, and she was a woman that could be relied on in a crunch.
The red stucco building didn’t look exceptional from the outside, but the interior was classy. “You’re going to be impressed with your sister’s place,” Beth said. It seemed odd that he hadn’t visited in so long and hadn’t seen where she lived.
“I’m sure I will be,” Wyatt said. “She’s a big-time lawyer now.” Beth didn’t detect any resentment in his voice, and was sure he loved his sister despite having been apart from her for years.
Jessica greeted them at the door and ushered them inside. She wore wool slacks with a creamy sweater that set off her eyes. She had soft brown eyes, which reminded Beth of Wyatt’s. His sister was attractive, and had a friendly, easygoing personality. She had her long brown hair tied back at the nape of her neck, a casual look.
Wyatt gave her a hug. “Good to see you, Jess.” He held her at arm’s length. “You look great. I’m sorry we didn’t have much time to talk at the party.”
Jessica stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, I hope to see more of you.” She guided them through the foyer into the main room. The window along one wall had an expansive view of the East River. The place was decorated in earth tones with wood tables and plush furniture, giving it a welcoming feel.
There was a narrow staircase leading to the second floor, and the upper wall exhibited a geometric modern painting. Seated on one of the sofas was Wyatt’s younger brother. When Jessica entered with company, he stood up. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
Jeremy Mercer was as tall as Wyatt, but leaner. He lacked the rock-hard muscle that the Navy required, and looked like more of a jogger. He had short-cropped brown hair, brown eyes, and was handsome. He fit his role as the CEO of Mercer Industries, and was plenty charming when he chose to be.
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